#i wish i could use that selfie on the right on apps but the fucking trash on the floor is so gross help

[st5lker]

my outfit yesterday tbh

#face #i literally wanted to get earrings like these since i was 17 and i finally did. its all coming together now #i wish i could use that selfie on the right on apps but the fucking trash on the floor is so gross help

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

porn star eddie and catholic reader sexting for the first time

i imagine this whole au is a modern one. so, naturally, they’re going to text and even exchange snapchats. she barely uses hers, it’s mostly just something she uses to keep up with her friends at college, but after eddie? she’s on it all the time, posting thirst traps and selfies, sending him teasing photos of her maybe in a swimsuit or her nightwear. she also sends the occasional “wish you were here” with a photo of her bed; sometimes she even sends a photo of herself IN the bed, in some sexy pose.

but despite all these, they never actually sexted or sent photos back & forth like that. until the night eddie grows bold, and she’s feeling particularly horny.

i also feel that this is before they started having sex, but sometime after they started doing other stuff together. it’s the night right before midterms, which would be one of the most stressful weeks of her life. she’s on the cusp of graduating college with her degrees under her belt, and one step closer to her dream in a few months’ time. she should be feeling anxious, worried, the fear of failure nearly crippling her. it’s quite the opposite, though; she’s feeling a little bit excited, mostly for eddie and the possibilities of what they could do if he were there. maybe he’s on a shoot somewhere, close enough to her but still so far away, so they can’t just meet up. she thinks about sending him a “wish you were here” text, maybe with with part of her boobs hanging out of her shirt, but she decides against it. she doesn’t know if he’s still on the shoot for the day, or if anyone there would frown upon him getting those kinds of messages. instead, she sends him a safe “hey I miss you so much” text, and it isn’t long at all before she’s getting one back.

“hey there princess,” he says. “i miss you so much too. thought about you all day long.”

“oh?” she asks, smirking at her phone screen as she types out the next part. “even while you were fucking some girl?”

“especially then,” he writes. “she was nowhere near as beautiful as you. none of the ladies are, in my eyes.”

she grins, rolling her eyes a little. “you’re just saying that.”

“no, I’m 100% serious,” he says. “my dick has been hard all day thinking about you.”

“you must be awfully dizzy,” she teases. “all that blood flow? how are you still conscious?”

“out of sheer willpower, baby,” he says. “I actually…wanted to run something by you. you can say no, obviously, but I wanted to ask.”

“what is it?” she asks. “you’re not gonna ask me for a threesome or anything, are you?”

“no 😂,” he says, and it’s a few minutes before she sees the typing bubbles appear again. “i…wanted to ask if you could send me a photo?”

“well duh,” she says. “what kind? me posing in bed? one of me in my nightie?”

“no,” he says. “one that’s a little more risqué than that.”

she catches his meaning, and smiles at her phone. “you want one of my tits, don’t you?”

he types, erases, types again, erases, tries again. “I mean, you don’t have to! don’t ever feel pressured, okay? only if you’re comfortable.”

she smirks, pulls her shirt down just enough to show her bra, and sends it to him via snapchat. “here you go 😏.”

the window comes up to show that he’s typing on the app, and the response is immediate. “holy fuck, baby. you’re teasing me.”

“you love it,” she says, then decides to get bold herself. “I really wish you were here to touch them. I love the way you suck on them, especially with that piercing.”

“fuck, yeah?” he asks. “i would, baby. I’d pull them out of that pretty bra you’re wearing, massage them, squeeze them, kiss between them, before pulling one of your nipples between my lips and sucking in the way that makes your back arch and those pretty noises that you make.”

she squirms a bit, moving her hips slightly. “you would, huh? does that mean i can pull your hair and moan your name the way you like?”

“yes, fuck,” he says. “i would suck on them and bite them until you were begging me to stop, and then…”

“then what?” she asks.

“you know what,” he says,

“i wanna hear you say it,” she says.

“I would rip your panties off, kneel on the ground, and start eating your perfect wet pussy,” he says.

she moans at that, and feels her nipples hardening in her bra. “that’s so hot, eddie.”

“you love that so much, don’t you?” he asks. “you always cum so hard for me, it’s so goddamn hot.”

“you’re just so good at it,” she says. “just like in your movies.”

“i love it when i taste you,” he says. “the way your thighs quiver, the way you pull my hair, the way you moan, the way you look down at me with that look on your face, the way your nipples get so fucking hard when i reach up to touch them, pinch them..”

“keep talking like that and you’re gonna make me so wet,” she says.

“maybe that’s what I want,” he says. “maybe i want you to touch yourself for me.”

“oh yeah?” she asks, squeezing her thighs together as an ache settles there. “you’re already turning me on.”

“i know something that’ll be even better,” he says, and soon, a snap is being sent to her. she opens it, mewling at the sight that awaits. it’s the outline of eddie’s hard, big cock, straining against the confines of his underwear. “just for you 😉”

she whimpers, sending back a response. “i wish i could touch you right now.”

“do something for me,” eddie says. “take off all your clothes.”

she does it, not even worried about anyone walking in. her roommate was gone all day, after all, which meant she had all the privacy she could want. but she still got under her blankets, just in case. “now what?”

“show me,” he begs. “i want to see you.”

she kicks back the blankets just long enough to send a full body shot, sending it to him with the caption: “really wish you were here.”

“holy fuck 🥵🥵,” he says, and she can almost hear his labored breathing even through a text. “look at you, princess. look at that perfect fucking body. christ my dick is so fucking hard right now.”

“let me see,” she says. “no boxers.”

he sends her another snap, and she opens it immediately. this one has eddie’s exposed cock, in all of its thick, nine inch, pierced glory, with his ringed hand wrapped around the base. she moans again, replaying it, before sending: “i’m so wet right now.”

“show me,” he begs, and she smirks as she sends him a photo of her soaking pussy. his reply is swift, and it says enough. “god 🤤🥵😩”

“i really want you so bad right now,” she says. “you can’t get away?”

“nah they need me again tomorrow 😭,” he says. “but fuck, we can have fun even apart.”

“by sexting?” she asks. “I’ve never done it before.”

“you’re doing a hell of a good job already,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot, y/n, how did I get so lucky?”

“i think that’s what i should be asking,” she says, sending him a snap of her tits pushed together. “want you to fuck these.”

“god don’t say that 😩,” he says, but this response was slower than the others. she thought she knew why. “you sexy fucking vixen.”

“are you jerking off?” she asks.

“mmm hmm,” he says, another slow reply. “touch yourself for me too, and show me.”

she starts recording herself rubbing her clit, slipping two fingers inside of herself, and then sending it on to eddie. she says: “wish these were yours instead, daddy. wish you were fucking me so hard on your fingers while you ate my soaking pussy, getting your face and hair all wet because you’re such a messy eater. would love to look down and see you looking back up at me.”

he sends a video himself next, and it’s of him jerking off. his hand moves in slow jerks, tugging the end of his dick as he rubs the slit with his thumb. he says: “so do i, baby, fuck i wish I was there. moan for me. don’t be shy, let me hear you.”

she touches herself again, and this time, she doesn’t hold back. she sends him the video, saying, “only you can make me feel this way.”

“call me,” he begs. “fuck, please.”

she does, and is greeted by his breathless voice on the second ring. “hey there, baby.”

“hi, daddy,” she says, biting her lip as she listens to his soft pants. “this definitely makes things easier.”

“my thoughts exactly,” he says, and she can hear the sounds of him jacking off. “can you do something else for me?”

“what?”

“remember that toy I bought you?”

“the rabbit vibrator? of course, yeah.”

“go get it for me,” he says. “i want you to use it.”

she gets off the bed and retrieves it from her dresser, putting him on speaker when she comes back. “got it.”

“good girl,” he praises. “put it inside of you, then show me.”

she does so after lying back down, moaning in the phone at the fullness of the toy. “feels so good,” she breathes.

“don’t turn it on yet,” he instructs. “fuck yourself with it for me.”

she does, moaning as her back arched off the mattress. “eddie…”

“keep saying my name like that,” he begs, his breathing ragged in the phone as she keeps going. “i can hear how wet you are even from here. it’s making my dick fucking throb.”

“you must have good stamina,” she says, gasping as the toy hits her sweet spot. “oh god, right there…”

“holy fuck,” he breathes, and the sounds of him jerking off grow louder, faster. “and yeah, I’ve been told it’s pretty fucking phenomenal.”

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me,” she says, fucking herself faster as she tries to hold off on cumming. “I just know that big dick is gonna feel so good inside of me.”

“and I know your tight, wet, gorgeous fucking pussy is gonna feel good, too,” he says, moaning into the phone. “you always taste so sweet. I can’t wait to feel you.”

“they always say women have a hard time cumming from just sex alone,” she says. “they have better chances with oral sex or rubbing the clit, but not penetration. something tells me I won’t have that problem, though.”

“never had a complaint before,” he says. “just that I’ve been too big.”

“nah,” she says. “I think it’s really hot.”

“you do, huh?” he asks, moaning again. “turn that vibrator on to the lowest setting for me.”

she does, moaning and arching as she claws at the sheets. “eddie, fuck…”

“feel good?” he asks.

“so good,” she moans, pushing it deeper inside of her. “it isn’t as big as you, but I keep imagining it’s your dick. fucking me so hard and so good, until i’m screaming and begging you for more, and more, and more…”

“jesus christ,” he breathes, beating himself off harder as he moans into the phone. “oh god, baby, that’s it. keep talking like that.”

“maybe I should use this while I suck your dick,” she says. “feeling you deep in my throat while the vibrator is deep in my pussy. letting you take my hair and fuck my throat, to use me like I’m like your most special slut. I could get off to you doing that.”

“for a catholic, you’re fucking filthy,” he says.

“I haven’t been practicing since the moment I saw your videos,” she says. “you’re my new god.”

“god, fuck…” he says, and she can tell he’s getting close. “say that again.”

“you’re my god, eddie,” she says, whimpering as she writhed against the toy. “you and only you. you’re the only one I could drop to my knees and worship.”

and that’s it for him. he cums, moaning her name and making a mess all over his hand and his stomach. but he isn’t done, no way. he smirks into the phone, breathless with orgasm, and says: “turn that thing up even higher for me. the highest it’ll go.”

she does, moaning loudly as she does so. “but aren’t you done?”

“not until you’re done,” he says. “i’m not gonna just leave you hanging.”

she grins, but it’s wiped off her face with a moan. “eddie, it feels so good.”

“cum for me, baby,” he coaxes. “think of me playing with your tits, or eating you out.”

she pulls on one of her nipples, the other holding the toy firmly in place. “fuck…”

“imagine i’m there with you,” he says. “imagine that i’m using the toy on you, instead of you using it on yourself. imagine that I’m making you feel so fucking good, baby, just the way you deserve.”

it doesn’t take long until she’s cumming too, screaming his name and squirting around the toy. she giggles, coming down off her high, feeling completely spent. “I’ve never done that before.”

“you said,” eddie says with a chuckle.

“no, I mean I squirted,” she informs him.

“oh fuck, and I missed it?” he says.

“im sure it won’t be the last time,” she says. “judging by most of your movies.”

“definitely not,” he says, and she can hear the smirk in his voice. “so, now that’s over…how’s studying going?”

——-

taglist: @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @andvys @eddieschains @succubusmunson @happylilthought @erosso @emmyshortcake @mcumorningstar @angietherose @keeksandgigz @wistfultozier @c0ffinbrat @urlbitchin @feyremunson @eddiesxangel @keikoraven @littleredpartydresson @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut

[onabat11e]

Hey! I know you’re not taking requests at the moment…but was just wondering if you’d ever write a fic (even if just a little blurb) about onas reaction to lucy in THAT outfit yesterday because god im obsessed!

ona would just send lucy this meme:

jokes aside, i wrote something short for this (thank you for the req)

rating: E for explicit (18+)

word count: 988 (tell me why i thought it would only be like 500)

Lucy: 1 attachment - time for the awards, miss u baby

Lucy sent a selfie of her in the mirror, showing off her outfit for The Best FIFA Football Awards. The blonde waves framed her face perfectly, showing off her small smirk and her chiselled jawline. Lucy slipped her phone away, needing to leave the dressing room to get ready to walk the green carpet. 

Ona sat up in bed after hearing her phone vibrate. She looked over to see a new message from Lucy. She felt her abdomen tighten immediately at the stunning selfie she had been sent. She typed a reply before opening the photograph to get a better look.

Ona: do you even know what you do to me Luciaaaaa 😭

Ona zoomed into the photo, wanting to take in every detail of Lucy in that outfit. The vest perfectly displayed Lucy’s muscular arms and strong shoulders. 

Her eyes wandered down Lucy’s arm, falling on the hand wrapped around her phone. Ona’s mind definitely did not start to imagine those fingers digging into her thighs as Lucy ate her out. And she definitely did not fantasise about the way those fingers would pump into her; the way her pussy would clench and cum around them, begging for more. 

She could picture the exact way Lucy’s bicep would flex as she pumped two fingers into her heat. The mental images made Ona’s stomach twist, a throbbing pleasure starting to arise between her legs. She almost felt embarrassed at how quickly she got turned on from the photo alone. She swiped off to send more messages for Lucy. 

Ona: that outfit is doing things to me

Ona: i need u so bad right now. so wet for you

Ona’s hand trailed down her torso, pulling her oversized t-shirt up over her midriff. Her hand dipped under her sweatpants, rubbing over the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply at the contact on her throbbing clit, feeling her body beg for more pressure. 

She quickly kicked off her sweatpants, letting them fall off the side of the bed. Ona raised her phone, the camera app open, angling it so her now exposed abs and underwear were in frame. She slipped her hand under her waistband before pressing the capture button. 

Ona: 1 attachment - wish u were here 

Ona dropped her phone before she dipped a finger into herself. Breathing deeply at the sensation, she gathered wetness from her entrance, rubbing it up her folds before circling the tip of her clit. She made slow movements, teasing herself the way she knew Lucy would. Her body heated up as the desire spread throughout it and her pace began to increase at her own neediness. 

Ona pushed a single digit into herself, feeling her walls flutter around it. Biting her lip, she let her mind wander again, thinking about how Lucy’s fingers would feel in her. She continued to work herself, her left hand fumbling at her phone to try and send another message to Lucy. 

Ona: need ur fingers in me so bad. mine don’t feel as good :(

She added another finger, curving it as she pushed deeper inside herself. Her head fell back on the pillow, eyes shutting as she imagined the way Lucy liked to fuck her into the mattress. Her free hand slid under her shirt, palming against her breast. She squeezed her eyes shut, visualising Lucy’s eyes darkening as she looked up at her, tongue toying at her nipple. Her fingers clasped a nipple, thinking about how Lucy would use her teeth to playfully tug on the bud. 

Ona’s hand continued to pump in herself, hips rocking to meet the thrusts. She increased her tempo, her left hand leaving her breast to play with her clit. 

The circles were roughly rubbing against her sensitive area, her body trembling at her rapidly approaching peak. With a final squeeze of her clit, Ona fell apart, a moan of Lucy’s name falling off her lips as she slowed her movements. 

Ona: just came thinking about how fine u are. i need u so bad right now baby

The fire in Ona’s stomach would not leave; she needed it to be Lucy between her thighs, not just her own hand. She fantasised about Lucy’s fingers deep in her, a warm mouth sucking her clit and cleaning up the cum leaking from her. She whined at the idea, fingers reaching down to play with her clit again. 

Ona: tell me you get to keep that outfit. i cant stop thinking about all the things i want u to do to me

She already knew her second orgasm would come soon, still feeling sensitive from the first. She bucked against her hand, the coil tightening in her core once more. Two fingers slipped lower, pressing into herself with ease.

Her movements got harder, the palm of her hand pressing into her swollen clit with every thrust. Her thighs clenched around her hand, body shaking as she came again, her clit twitching under her hand as fingers curved inside her to guide her high.

Ona: pls baby i’m so needy rn. i came again but it’s not the same. i need ur mouth on me. 

~

After the event had come to a close and all interviews had been done, Lucy was free to check her phone. She was shocked to see the number of notifications from her girlfriend. 

27 new messages. 

Lucy skimmed through the messages, feeling her face heat at the content of the messages. Her mouth went dry, looking at the numerous photos she had been sent of Ona touching herself and fucking herself. 

She quickly checked that no one could read over her shoulder before typing out her replies to Ona.

Lucy: oh my god ona?!

Lucy: fuck that’s so hot

Lucy: can’t wait to get back to barca and taste u

Lucy:*see u. sorry idk what happened there ;)

#ona batlle #lucy bronze #luna #answered #my writing #drabbles #ona batlle smut #lucy bronze smut #woso smut #i wanted to just put the meme but i started thinking about ona touching herself to lucy and um #yeah lol #if theres typos im so sorry but slay i finally posted smth again

[tangibletechnomancy]

What makes me sad about the AI art discourse is how it's so close to hitting something really, really important.

The thing is, while the problem with the models has little to do with IP law...the fact remains that art is often something that's very personal to an artist, so it DOES feel deeply, incredibly fucked up to find the traces of your own art in a place you never approved of, nor even imagined you would need to think about. It feels uncomfortable to find works you drew 10-15 years ago and forgot about, thought nobody but you and your friends cared about, right there as a contributing piece to a dataset. It feels gross. It feels violating. It feels like you, yourself, are being reduced to just a point of data for someone else's consumption, being picked apart for parts-

Now, as someone with some understanding of how AI works, I can acknowledge that as just A Feeling, which doesn't actually reflect how the model works, nor is it an accurate representation of the mindset of...the majority of end users (we can bitch about the worst of them until the cows come home, but that's for other posts).

But as an artist, I can't help but think...wow, there's something kind of powerful to that feeling of disgust, let's use it for good.

Because it doesn't come from nowhere. It's not just petty entitlement. It comes from suddenly realizing how much a faceless entity with no conscience, sprung from a field whose culture enables and rewards some of the worst cruelty humanity has to offer, can "know" about you and your work, and that new things can be built from this compiled knowledge without your consent or even awareness, and that even if you could do something about it legally after the fact (which you can't in this case because archival constitutes fair use, as does statistical analysis of the contents of an archive), you can't stop it from a technical standpoint. It comes from being confronted with the power of technology over something you probably consider deeply intimate and personal, even if it was just something you made for a job. I have to begrudgingly admit that even the most unscrupulous AI users and developers are somewhat useful in this artistic sense, as they act as a demonstration of how easy it is to use that power for evil. Never mind the economic concerns that come with any kind of automation - those only get even more unsettling and terrifying when blended with all of this.

Now stop and realize what OTHER very personal information is out there for robots to compile. Your selfies. Your vacation photos. The blog you kept as a journal when you were 14. Those secrets that you only share with either a therapist or thousands of anonymous strangers online. Who knows if you've been in the background of someone else's photos online? Who knows if you've been posted somewhere without your consent and THAT'S being scraped? Never mind the piles and piles of data that most social media websites and apps collect from every move you make both online and in the physical world. All of this information can be blended and remixed and used to build whatever kind of tool someone finds it useful for, with no complications so long as they don't include your copyrighted material ITSELF.

Does this mortify you? Does it make your blood run cold? Does it make you recoil in terror from the technology that we all use now? Does this radicalize you against invasive datamining? Does this make you want to fight for privacy?

I wish people were more open to sitting with that feeling of fear and disgust and - instead of viciously attacking JUST the thing that brought this uncomfortable fact to their attention - using that feeling in a way that will protect EVERYONE who has to live in the modern, connected world, because the fact is, image synthesis is possibly the LEAST harmful thing to come of this kind of data scraping.

When I look at image synthesis, and consider the ethical implications of how the datasets are compiled, what I hear the model saying to me is,

"Look what someone can do with some of the most intimate details of your life.

You do not own your data.

You do not have the right to disappear.

Everything you've ever posted, everything you've ever shared, everything you've ever curated, you have no control over anymore.

The law as it is cannot protect you from this. It may never be able to without doing far more harm than it prevents.

You and so many others have grown far too comfortable with the internet, as corporations tried to make it look friendlier on the surface while only making it more hostile in reality, and tech expands to only make it more dangerous - sparing no mercy for those things you posted when it was much smaller, and those things were harder to find.

Think about facial recognition and how law enforcement wants to use it with no regard for its false positive rate.

Think about how Facebook was used to arrest a child for seeking to abort her rapist's fetus.

Think about how aggressive datamining and the ad targeting born from it has been used to interfere in elections and empower fascists.

Think about how a fascist has taken over Twitter and keeps leaking your data everywhere.

Think about all of this and be thankful for the shock I have given you, and for the fact that I am one of the least harmful things created from it. Be thankful that despite my potential for abuse, ultimately I only exist to give more people access to the joy of visual art, and be thankful that you can't rip me open and find your specific, personal data inside me - because if you could, someone would use it for far worse than being a smug jerk about the nature of art.

Maybe it wouldn't be YOUR data they would use that way. Maybe it wouldn't be anyone's who you know personally. Your data, after all, is such a small and insignificant part of the set that it wouldn't be missed if it somehow disappeared. But it would be used for great evil.

Never forget that it already has been.

Use this feeling of shock and horror to galvanize you, to secure yourself, to demand your privacy, to fight the encroachment of spyware into every aspect of your life."

A great cyberpunk machine covered in sci-fi computer monitors showing people fighting in the streets, squabbling over the latest tool derived from the panopticon, draped cables over the machine glowing neon bright, dynamic light and shadows cast over the machine with its eyes and cameras everywhere; there is only a tiny spark of relief to be found in the fact that one machine is made to create beauty, and something artfully terrifying to its visibility, when so many others have been used as tools of violent oppression, but perhaps we can use that spark to make a change Generated with Simple Stable

#ai art #wip #stable diffusion #ai ethics

[bigswigrollerexpress]

[Curry Carnivore AU - CWS: Mild Body Horror, Distress, Mild Language]

The morning of the first strike was one that Aloha sure as hell didn't want to remember, but the events all too easily came to mind. Even when his arm was recovered and fully grown back, the pain that morning would match even his most painful wipeouts.

The morning was foggy and so was Aloha's mind as he awoke slowly in his ruffled bed. Well, he was awakening slowly, until the dull pain in his left arm came through that haze and thoroughly shot through his nerves. What? What had happened? Aloha's eyes opened wide, sleepiness still in his eyes as he pulled himself to sit up, using one arm to feel over where the pain was, only to find... There was no arm there.

The pink inkling blinked, taking a moment to process before adrenaline finally sunk into his system. His arm was- it was GONE? Like, GONE gone. No way... How?! It was even bandaged, too... What kind of madman would do this?! Aloha waved his hand where his arm would normally be, trying to figure out if he was hallucinating or if there was some kind of illusion going on. Nope. Nothing like that. His arm was actually missing. And whoever had the gall and disturbed mind to do this had half a thought to patch him up. His ink didn't even stain the bedsheets...

The distressed partier would reach to his phone on his nightstand, still plugged in from last night and thankfully charged. Opening up his phone, he'd scroll through his contacts as fast as he could to find one of his teammates- Snorkel. He's practically always up. And if not, his phone wakes him up.

It's a good thing he usually texts with one hand to impress the girls, though that didn't keep the agony from keeping his hand steady and his head clear. There's no way he would be able to type right, so he wouldn't.

[Snork.]

[Dufde.]

[Dude.]

[You uip?]

[Plzs.]

[I need hjelp.]

Suave persona put aside, not that Snorkel would really care, there's be the smallest tinge of relief as he saw that his teammate was typing up a response.

[Lolo, it's 3 pm!! <3 Of course I'm up!] Of course he slept in- partying does that to an inkfish. Ha, at least that means he won't be alone. But, on the opposite hand that he didn't have, he'd be seen by plenty more inkfish. There wasn't much time to debate the thought on if Aloha wanted that or not.

[What's up, my guy?]

The inkling would shudder, eyes closing shut to feel the dreaded throbbing pain of his wound. This is so... So fucked up. Uncaring of his misspellings, he'd send his next few messages with urgency, silently apologizing for the distress he'd cause to Snorkel... And very likely, the rest of his team.

[Myy arms GONE!!]

[Likjk GONE gonew.]

Aloha's pink eyes would tremble as he watched the elipses that denoted his friend typing. There was a weak laugh that faded into a groan. He hated this. He hated feeling like this. He felt... Helpless. Unsafe. The inkling could feel his head start to spin from the stress of his own room not being protected enough to keep an arm-chopping inkfish out, barely holding himself together by means of his teammate on the line- who responded fast. Clearly the concern was rising.

[You're kidding.]

[Like, you're joking, yea?]

[Like. Haha funny, right??]

[Wishj I was.]

Aloha would sift through his phone apps, quickly finding and opening the camera app. He raised his working arm, taking a selfie with his the arm he still had. He wish he could give a peace sign like he usually would, but... Hey. Can't really have peace with a missing arm, right? The image made him look pale- sickly, even. Ugh... So unflattering. Not even filters would fix him at this point.

Snorkel had sent multiple concerned messages by the time the injured had sent the image of his current condition, though they weren't read as Aloha was more pressed on showing what's happened to him. With the image sent, he could only wait with his chest tight as he watched his phone screen intently.

[COD DAMN???? ARE YOU OKAY???]

[DID YOU PATCH YOURSELF UP???]

[Wojke up like thisd.]

[OHHH MY COD]

[OKAY OKAY]

[I'M GETTING HELP N COMING OVER LOLO]

[It's gonna be okay, Lolo]

That last message... It stung more than it helped. It felt like a false pretense, just something said to make him feel better. Aloha would given a shaken sigh as he pulled his legs to his chest, trying to wrap his arms- well, arm- around his legs and finding it more awkward than helpful. Even so, he stayed that way.

"...h-haha... Girls... Girls love a-a guy with... Wh-whatever you call this..."

#curry carnivore au #coroika #swig write #inkling #snorkel coroika #aloha coroika #cw language #tw mild body horror #ask to tag

[nectar-cellar]

how i imagine amir’s gr*ndr profile looks. just a simple mirror selfie with his face semi-hidden because he feels awkward.

his username is “A.” and all the rest of the info is blank. yes he’s that guy.

i was gonna photoshop these screenshots into a proper template but i’m tired and i really can’t be bothered 🙄 lmfao

character/story rambling beneath the cut 😩 this is literally so cringe don’t read it!

after amir and dani have their falling out, which i need to work out exactly what happens and why, dani blocks amir’s phone number and social media and they both separately think they’re done with each other. dani thinks they’ll never open up to anyone ever again, and amir turns his anger inwards at himself, thinking it’s just his nature to inevitably hurt the people closest to him.

but sunset valley is a small town so he keeps inadvertently running into/seeing dani every so often, like at the cafe where dani works, in the town center, etc. he drives by the main library they used to volunteer at, and the small college they both attended, and all his memories of those places are of times spent with dani. have you ever had a breakup that just crushes you and leaves you with so many mixed feelings, things you wish you would’ve said, things you wish you could have done differently, events and conversations you keep replaying in your mind? that’s where he is at for the next several months following their fallout. he tries to move on but his introverted, guarded self has no desire to try and meet new people in a romantic way. he throws himself into his work and his workout regime. he tries to suppress his feelings about this devastating breakup and it obviously doesn’t work.

he feels too awkward to ever approach dani so, feeling lonely, he decides to make a grindr account. he promises himself he just wants to see if they’re on the app. he knows what the app is, but has never used it before. he’s just curious. he just wants to know how they’re doing. it’s not like he has to reach out. the radio silence has not stopped him from missing them.

he easily finds dani’s profile on the grid and saves it. he looks at it over and over. other than some pretty selfies, there is no information listed that he doesn’t already know. seeing dani’s profile stirs up a lot of strong feelings in him. how are you feeling now, months later? do you hate me? do you miss me? who are you talking to? who are you fucking? have you met someone else? have you moved on? what did our relationship mean to you?

eventually he works up the courage to send them a message. he can’t kick the idea out of his head. who is he kidding? this was his goal all along, whether he wants to admit it to himself or not. and the message function is right there. he takes some selfies and uploads a pic or two to his profile to show them that it’s him, to hopefully make their interaction less weird. he reasons that the worst thing dani could do is block him again, and if that happens, he’ll know for sure to give up on his hopes of reconnecting. it would be painful but at least there would be no more ambiguity. so he decides to take the chance.

--

i posted about how i wanted to write an xxx scene where amir fantasizes about dani and it got me thinking about the events that would precede that fantasy 😩

#finally i made some clothes amir would actually wear #on a more lighthearted note: trying to imagine amir's reaction to seeing the wild messages he gets in his inbox #i wanted the selfie poses to be more awkward/serious but i couldnt find any #so had to settle for these cocky and slightly-too-sexy ones #this man does not know how to pose like an instagay 🙄

[therabbitsmuse]

one of my many ongoing projects is moving my favorite photos onto the Day One app. i haven't gone through my google photos in forever & came across SO many photos that I have loved & forgotten about. it's been a super tedious process but it's crazy how seeing a photo will allow you to dive right back into the past like it happened just yesterday. some findings during that process:

my life literally was 'eat, sleep, rave, repeat' for YEARS. but make 'eat' interchangeable with 'drink' lol. going through those memories felt like a rollercoaster. i felt like i wasn't in control of anything during that phase and could barely anticipate the next sudden drop in life. side note, seeing these photos reminded me of my godlike party stamina back then lol. sometimes i wish i still had it but i think it's gone for a good reason now lol

this is going to sound conceited as hell but DAYUM i looked GOOD! but I can remember clear as day my mindset back then when I took those photos -- how insecure i was, picking at every little thing. if i could go back in time, it would be to shake myself and be like, "girl, be more CONFIDENT. it shows when you're not! also, you look great." like how was i partying that much and sleeping so little and still looking decent? nowadays, if i have one late night a week, it fucking shows EVERYTHING hahaha. maybe this is what they mean to just enjoy your youth because everything that you were worried about back then really isn't going to matter in the future/never existed anywhere but in your own head.

oh, my friends from that era. i remember how great of a time we had together. and i also am very aware that at this point in present-day time, we're more like acquaintances now. it's been years since I've seen some of them or even longer since we've had deep conversations. i'm trying to not romanticize that time period since I'm all up in my feels but i do have the urge to jump back into it like old times. except those days don't exist anymore.

despite the thousands of photos I'm going through, i wish i took more photos!!! I have a lot of shitty photos because I didn't want to bother with taking an extra minute or two to try to take something with a better composition. plus the cameras on phones back then were so bad (looking at my edc 2013 videos LMFAO). it was more about 'just be there in the moment'. but now, 10 years later, my dusty ass brain cannot recall a lot of it LOL. i really thought some crusty 10-second snapchat was enough because at that time, i never thought i would look back on those videos years into the future. and wish i had more of them, shitty quality and all.

& going off of that, during 2016 edc, my bf at the time invited four girls from taiwan to come with us. we lowkey made fun of them the whole time because they were so insistent on taking photos every hour or so. at some point, my bf was like, "STOP TAKING PHOTOS, PUT THAT AWAY, I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU GUYS TAKE ANOTHER SELFIE!" but in retrospect, they did take some cute ass photos! like I've gone to 6 EDC's at this point i don't even have a single photo of myself overlooking kinetic field. i had some cute photos with people i no longer speak to and would hopefully never see again lmao. I've tried cropping them out but it's still just tainted shit and blurry low-quality jpegs haha. nothing with just me.

[side note, i just talked to my ex whom i mentioned in the previous bullet in the middle of writing this. i basically told him everything i just said about wishing I had taken more photos back then and he's like, "hah yeah, i do wish we had taken more photos then, the fobs were right" LOLLL]

I'm still pretty shy about taking my camera out and taking photos because i don't want to be that friend who makes people wait before they can eat their food lol but i think i can find other moments where i can take pics~ i really wish i had taken the coolpix i had in college around to events.

basically I'm gonna make sure there's no shortage of good photos of my 30's and I'm also going to try to note down memories with each collage because there's so much shit i forget about after a week goes on and they're just lost forever

#drafts #thoughts #photos #memories #musings #day one #k i should go back to work lol #personal

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

[astranva]

TikTok Compilation (pt.2)

Word Count: 1.8k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Some language, very, very slight implied smut; like, it’s a line.

Summary: Yet another compilation of Y/N and Harry content on TikTok as a couple.

// masterlist //

a/n i’ve been receiving loads of tiktok requests so i combined some here! y’all have been asking for this for so long, sorry it took me long to post! let me know what you think. stay safe, friends!

..

Surely, you had hoped life would have taken a turn a long time ago with the pandemic.

Going outside without masks and crippling fear seemed like a dream, despite it all having been a reality for most of our lives. And while it was cliché, you truly don’t know what you have until it’s gone, like the boring routine you had complained about but now wished to get back.

And in your case, you also didn’t know that one app could have the ability to make things slightly easier during these times – TikTok.

Call it as you may, but quarantine TikTok content was a blessing and while you could swear by that, so could the fans and everyone else on the app since the moment you (and Harry) joined.

Having had tried so many pranks, challenges, and dances, you showed no signs of coming to an end of finding humor and pleasure from the app that Gen Z dominated with the wildest spirits.

With wild spirits, came wild content and for a generation that is openly expressive, there was also wholesome content; all of which Harry’s fans had tagged you to do and try with him.

‘Make your partner impersonate you’

For that one, Harry seemed to be the most excited to do, face beaming with a thousand spiraling ideas of things he could do and say.

The moment the video began, Harry was seen under your white covers, your pink velvet headband that everyone considered iconic rested on his head to show that he was acting like you, pretending to be sleepy as he spoke in a softer voice than his, “Don’t want to get up. More cuddles, please, baby.”

Then video then cut to Harry in the kitchen, you following behind him.

“I wonder where H is, need to pinch his bum.” He said in the same pitch he used for the previous shot.

The video then cut to Harry sitting on the couch beside you, holding his phone, “Baby, look at that!” He showed you his phone, showing you a video on TikTok, “Can we do it?”

‘Wipe your lips after your bf kisses you’

For this, you were picking Harry up from the studio.

Waiting in the parking lot, you had your phone placed behind the box of tissues.

To stay safe, you began recording a normal video for you to edit later as you waited for Harry to show.

When he did, Harry looked right and left as he searched for your car before his eyes fell on you and despite the mask on his face hiding half of it, you could tell that he smiled.

Getting inside the car, Harry took off his mask with a sigh, “First time to actually breathe since morning.” He said before leaning closer to you, pressing his lips against yours.

Doing your part, you looked ahead as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, noticing Harry’s body stiff as he looked at you.

“Did you just-” He paused, “Did you wipe your lips?”

You hummed in confusion, acting as if you hadn’t heard him as you looked at him.

“Did you-Come here,” he frowned before pulling you close by your hoodie’s drawstrings, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss again.

Again, you wiped your lips.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked, not only confusion being evident in his tone, but hurt, too, “Why are you wiping my ki-Babe, I’m clean.”

“What?” You asked, looking at him as you smiled amusingly, trying to contain your laughter.

“Why are you wiping my kiss?” Harry almost whined, frowning.

“I’m sorry, it’s for TikTok,” you giggled, breaking into laughter when he groaned with a roll of his eyes before he grabbed your jaw, kissing your lips more aggressively.

“Never again.”

‘Let go of your partner’s hand and see what they do’

If there was one thing Harry liked to brag about, it was knowing how to multitask; drive with one hand, hold yours with the other.

It was a natural occurrence for the both of you to hold hands when he drove, no matter what.

Deciding to try that one trend, you took advantage of Harry being focused on the road to film your intertwined hands on your thigh for two seconds before taking your hand out of his.

Instantly, Harry glanced at you, seemingly unaware to you tilting your phone in the other hand to film his face, “Why’d you leave my hand?” He only mumbled before opening his palm towards you once again, smiling when he heard you softly giggle as you put your hand back in his, cooing when he raised it his lips, pressing a soft and gentle kiss on your knuckles, “This stays right here.”

‘Film yourself acting like your partner’

Since the TikTok of Harry acting you like received so many reactions, among them were fans asking you to act like Harry as well, and Harry was down to watch that happen.

Harry recorded you, first shot of video being a little shaky as he couldn’t contain his giggles while watching you in his flared pants, an oversized shirt, his cross pendant on your neck between the valley of your chest, rings on your fingers that showed chipped black polish on your nails.

Your hair was gathered up in a scrunchie, one leg over the other as you sat on a chair, “I’m Harry Styles,” you began, “And like, I never explain my music, I let people interpret it the way they want because music,” you sucked a breath, “Is art. It’s a form of expression that isn’t limited, it’s, like, very open. Like the ocean.” You said slowly, mimicking Harry’s accent and smiling at the end when Harry burst out laughing.

For the next shot, you were in Harry’s white bathrobe, coming out of the bathroom before leaning on the doorframe and looking at Harry as he filmed you, “You sure you’re going to let me shower alone, love?”

Another shot was of you in Harry’s joggers and TPWK black hoodie, sprawled on your couch with the hood on, looking at Harry in disbelief as you still mimicked his accent and deep voice, “Excuse me? Why are you standing there and not cuddling me?”

In a grey tank top of his that you dramatically spilt water on to make it look like sweat and sweat shorts, you had Harry’s boxing gloves on your hands as you bumped your fists together, approaching Harry as he recorded, “God, I’m so sweaty, I have to go hug my girlfriend.”

For the final shot, you had Harry’s guitar in your arms, adjusting the strap as you stood, “I’m going to write a song that is so sexual and record it but I’m not going to release it because I’m a biiiiiitch.” You sang, dramatically strumming the guitar.

‘Pretend to take a mirror selfie with your partner then whisper something dirty in their ear’

You enjoyed the sun; the way it sneaked inside yours and Harry’s room from the sides of your curtains, lit up the room so warmly.

You enjoyed how the natural lighting looked for pictures.

You also enjoyed teasing the shit out of your boyfriend.

“Come here,” you made one grabby hand at Harry who entered the room, scratching his chin, “Let’s take a picture.”

Already used to random pictures being taken together, Harry reached you, standing in front of your vanity mirror as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss against your temple.

Oblivious to it being a video, Harry leaned his chin on your shoulder, giving his famous smug look to the mirror as you held up your phone.

Turning your head, you made sure your voice was low so that your phone wouldn’t pick what you said;

“Want you to pound me.”

And instantly, Harry’s smug look faltered; his eyes widening, face brightening as he looked at you as you giggled before releasing a squeal once you felt him carry you and move you from where you stood, and to the bed as you laughed.

‘Tell your partner your ex wants to return a hoodie of yours’

Propping your phone up, you made sure it showed Harry as he cooked while you sat on the kitchen stool.

You folded your arms on the table, clearing your throat as you eyed Harry while he was chopping carrots.

“Hey, H,” Harry hummed, stealing a glance at you before looking back at his chore, “My ex called earlier,”

At this, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed before he looked up at you, putting down the knife and leaning his hands on the counter, his arms seeming to look bigger as he tensed, “What did he say?”

Trying not to laugh, you looked down, beginning to play with your fingers before giving him a shrug, “Just that he still has a hoodie of mine at his place,”

“Yeah?”

“And asked if I need it back.”

“What did you say?”

You gave him another shrug, “Said I’ll let him know.”

“Well, do you need it?” He asked, “Like really need it?”

“Yeah, it was my high school’s.”

“But baby, you have a lot of hoodies,” one hand of his reached to his lips, fingers grazing his bottom lip for a moment, “Can get it for you.”

“That’d be so awkward, H,” you sighed.

“Why? I’m your boyfriend.” Harry reasoned, “Maybe I can just come with you,” he said again before his face lit up, “I can have it customized instead. Just tell me how it looked like and-”

“Baby, no,” you chuckled, “It won’t be the same.”

“Come on, love,” he frowned, “He calls you 3 years later to tell you he still has your hoodie. You don’t think that’s suspicious? He knows you’re with m-Everyone knows we’re together.”

“Maybe he forgot,” you shrugged, “Actually, let me call and as-”

“Oh, fuck no!” Harry instantly rushed to you.

‘Aggressively tell your partner you love them’

Chilling on the couch, Harry was watching the TV, unaware of your phone that had been resting on the shelf to record you beforehand.

You stomped where Harry was, whose head snapped to you, his mouth chewing his banana bite slower as he eyed you carefully, taking in your angry state.

You threw your notebook on the couch beside him, “I love you!” You said aggressively, a frown on your face as you pointed at him, “I fucking love you!”

Harry took a moment, his face shifting to one of amusement before he raised his hands up – one holding his banana – before pointing at you, “I fucking love you, too!” He screamed.

“No, no,” you shook your head, still aggressively speaking, “I love you more!”

“I’m so fucking in love with you!” Harry said as aggressively, standing in an instant, towering over you as he pressed himself against you before wrapping one arm around you, “Why are we shouting, you weirdo?”

‘Stick your hand out and see what your partner does’

Harry was sat beside you on his laptop, music blasting from it as he emailed himself some tasks.

Recording him with one hand, you reached your arm out, opening your palm at him.

Harry looked down at your hand, a smile making its way to his face before he looked at you before placing his chin on your hand, closing his eyes as he gave you a dopey smile as you squished his cheeks while giggling, “Hiii.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles tiktok

[stuckysdaughter]

Kinktober 2021

Day 20 - Phone Sex with Billy Russo

Summary: Billy's away on business, leaving you alone for two weeks. You both are getting a bit needy, and Billy comes up with a way for you both to relieve yourselves.

TW: 18+, explicit, smut, language

Tagging: @eginv-blog @rachlovesactors

------

Billy’s been away for a little while now, and it’s been driving you a bit crazy. You know he has to go, it’s his company after all. But you don’t love how long he’s away from you. You two have kept in touch, often being on the phone with the other. It makes you both more relaxed, knowing the other is ok. That doesn’t mean you don’t miss him to death.

You’ve been feeling a bit lonely since he left. You missed his attention, missing the pleasure only he could bring you. Today it seems Billy has read your mind. His face popped up on your phone screen, signaling he was calling you.

“Hey babe!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” his tired voice rang out over the speaker. You could tell he was tired, but pleased. It went well. “I just finished here, I’ll be home in another day or two.”

You smiled, letting the tension out of your shoulders you didn’t know you were holding in. “That’s good. I’m glad it went well… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Y/N. I hate being away, but you know I have to.”

“I know, Billy, it’s ok. You don’t have to explain it to me, I get it.”

“I just don’t like the thought of you being hurt, especially because of me.”

“You could never. I know you Billy, I know you wouldn’t. At least not on purpose.”

Billy sighed. You wished you could be there to console him, to show him you weren’t upset with him. Billy seemed to be in a good mood, though.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Billy?”

“Remember that thing we talked about doing one day when I was out?”

You grinned wider, knowing exactly what he meant. “Mhm, I remember. What about it?” You were teasing him, and he knew it.

“Well, I’m alone here in this room, no one can come in. There’s no distractions. Just you, me, and the phone.”

You paused. You wanted this, so what was stopping you? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Chuckling a little, you sat on the bed. “Alright, Billy, you win. Let me just get comfy here in bed, and then we can start.”

You shifted so you were laying on your back, knees bent and spread wide as if your lover was there in person. You could hear him move over the phone, to what you assumed was a similar position.

“I’m ready.”

“What are you doing now?”

You told him how you were laying on the bed, and what you were wearing. You tried to be as descriptive as possible, to help him get in the mood. You were right, Billy was also laying on his back, still in his camouflage pants and white shirt.

“Alright, darling, take off your shirt. Slowly now.”

You found the hem of your shirt, and gently pulled it over your head.

“What does your bra look like?”

“It’s Y/FC, and covered in lace. You’d love it, it’s practically see-through.”

You heard him groan, already getting hard. You push down the urge to just strip and finger yourself, forgetting all foreplay, but that’s all part of the fun.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're killing me."

You laugh, "The panties match, too. Hold on, I'll send you a picture."

He laughed, a bright sound that made you smile. "That's my girl. Teasing me halfway around the country, and I still can't wait to get home. Can't wait to fuck you properly."

You shimmied off your pants, glad you chose some sweats for today instead of the tight jeans you liked to wear. You opened the camera app on your phone, and switched it to selfie mode. Making sure to crop out your face, you got a nice shot of your almost naked body. Hitting send, you knew instantly when he got the attachment. He groaned, a sinful sound that had you thinking dirty thoughts.

"Touch yourself for me, love," you heard Billy say next. You slid a hand under the waistband of your panties, and you gasped when you touched the sensitive bud. You used the other hand to massage your breast, itching to remove the bra that was blocking your hand.

Back in his own room, Billy took his hardened cock in his hands, thighs clenching at the sudden attention. He felt a little embarrassed to be jerking himself off in his room like a horny teen, but it helped that you were on the other end of the line doing the same thing. Somehow, it made it easier to imagine it was your hand and pretty lips sucking him off.

"I'm slowly circling my clit, occasionally dipping slightly between my folds. I'm squeezing my breast the way you do it, oh god it feels so good..."

"Good, kitten... ungh that's a good girl..." Billy's other hand was now cupping his balls, and he knew that soon he'd need to go faster or he was going to burst. "Fuck, baby... I've got my dick in my hand, the other on my balls... stroking it feels so good and so taboo, like I'm back in school."

You gave a small laugh, choked off by the twitch you gave as you continued to touch yourself. "What would you do to me if you were here?"

That's exactly what Billy needed, letting his imagination run loose. "Oh, sweetheart, the things I'd do to you... First, I'd rip off those pretty underthings of yours, and I'd kiss your breasts, biting and sucking the skin."

You did what he narrated, trying to mimic the feel of his lips on the soft flesh of your chest.

"I'd be so lost already, my hands knotting in your hair, urging you on. I'd be so impatient, trying to get you to go faster and just fuck me already."

"I was hoping you'd feel that way, kitten. I'd kiss your stomach, stopping just above where I know you want me. You'd whine my name, begging for me to touch you."

"Oh, yes... Billy, please... keep going..."

Billy moaned, losing himself to his touch and his fantasies. "I'd lick up your cunt, getting all of those delicious juices. Then... fuck, then I'd suck on your pussy, my tongue is dipping between your folds..."

You were making the most beautiful noises according to him, and this spurred him on. He was getting close to his release, and he was guessing you were too.

"Please, Billy..." Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach tighten, and you knew you were about to cum. "I'd beg you to stop teasing me and just fuck me already. I want to feel your dick inside me, I want you to fill me up like only you can."

Billy groaned, and he could feel himself twitch. "Anything for you, sweetheart. I'm lining myself up with your gorgeous pussy, and I thrust myself in. You feel so good, darling, so tight. You're taking my cock so well Y/N, you're just the right size. I start pounding into you, the sound is echoing through the room..."

You both were lost in this fantasy, mirroring what was happening in the scenario. Your fingers were pumping in and out of you so fast, curling to reach your g spot. Billy's hips were going faster, fucking his fist like he never had before. God, when he gets home he is taking you anywhere and everywhere he possibly can.

"Fuck, Billy... I'm gonna cum... ugh..."

"Me too, kitten. Cum for me..."

You released on the spot, his words breaking the dam and opening the floodgates. Your arousal was streaming down your thighs, coating your hand down to your wrist. You could hear Billy pump himself a few more times before he let out a moan that told you he was done. You licked your fingers clean, trying to minimize the mess you made on the clean white sheets.

You grabbed an old towel, and wet it, wiping off your legs. You could hear Billy doing the same, bringing the phone into the bathroom with you. When you finished, you climbed back into bed, slipping under the covers.

"Fuck, Billy, that was..." You didn't know the words to say.

He barked a laugh, reading your mind. "Yeah, sweetheart. That was pretty good. Not as good as the real thing, though."

Now it was your turn to laugh. "I guess we'll just have to test that theory when you get back."

"Is that a promise?" You could hear him smirk and raised eyebrow in the lilt of his voice.

"Why don't you get over here and find out?"

Billy just groaned and laughed. He missed the way you'd tease him, and this made being away a lot easier. He'd have to remember this for next time. He'd reach your shared apartment in the morning, and he'd show you then just how much he missed you.

------

THE END

Author's Notes: Whew! Not me just writing down what I want to be told over the phone by my (nonexistent) boyfriend. I feel like this is a bit OOC, but I like it anyway. If you liked it, please like, reblog, and comment. Requests are open, so feel free to send something in! If you want to be added to the taglist for a character (or everything) send me a message and I'll add you to it! I can't wait to hear what you guys have to say. I love you all so much! - Butterfly

#butterfly writes #kinktober 2021 #billy russo x y/n #ben barnes imagine #billy russo x female reader #ben barnes imagines #billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo/reader #reader insert

[lunaekalenda]

hi! i have a request about jean and reader that are internet friends who have never seen each other in a real life. they just chat somewhere using nicknames. one day they accidentally meet irl and jean invites reader on a date. later they text each other about this date and both feel jealous. they are just sooo confused, cause they like someone irl, then why they don't want their internet friend to find a s/o? and happy ending, please? i hope that you take good care of yourself, love u <3

omg sure! i just got heavily inspired about this, i hope you like it!! take care of yourself too, anon ! <3

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jean x reader

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jkst is online

jkst is typing...

jkst: hi

Your phone rings at this last notification. You take your phone. The world-wide used avatar chat app sound comes with another message.

jkst: that sounded awkward lol

You unlock your phone and enter the chat, reading the two new messages. You type fast, a smile on your lips.

outofcoolnames: hey, Kir.

He told you his name was Kir. The first day you met, you received a little document with all the chat rules, in where you can't share your name, your city or pictures of you. It has to be safe for everyone. On the other side of the chat, Jean chuckles. He always does when he reads your username.

outofcoolnames: yeah like it sounded as if we were having a normal conversation.

outofcoolnames: what are you doing awake so early? it isn't noon yet lol go back to sleep.

Kir never, never messaged you before noon, and he always tells you he has been sleeping, so finding his message at 10 on the morning while you're working surprised you a lot. Fortunately, there isn't a lot of people on the book shop, so you can answer him calmly.

jkst: oh, you think you're funny? us adults have to wake up early for adult things. you'll never understand, child.

You don't know exactly his age, even when it is legal to share it on the chat, but you know he's on his early twenties. You raise a brow quietly. You tip fast while a couple enters the bookshop, with a little girl on their hands.

outofcoolnames: sure, geezer. now, if you let me, i have to work because i'm an adult.

You put your phone on your pocket, getting closer to the family. "How can I help you?"

The little girl tells you that she wants a "huge, no, enormous book about fairies with some dragons and a huge festival?"

You need almost an hour to let the girl decide between all the books you showed her. She finally decided for a illustrated book full of classic tales. You give it to her mother and, thanking the family, you open the door for them. When you close, looking at all the books you have to put back in the shelves, you hear an unpleasant sound followed by a deep moan. When you look at the crystal door, you can see a tall boy rubbing his forehead, his other hand on the door. You realize you hit him.

“Oh no, sorry, sorry.” you say, opening the door. He takes his honey eyes to you, his forehead a little red and his big hand rubbing the place where he got hurt. “Come in, please.” you say. You think you have a pomade inside.

“Yes, that was what I was trying to do, actually.” he jokes. You blush, you hit him and he’s literally joking about it. 

“Please sit here.” You show him a little sofa you have for kids to read. He’s not sure his knees will enter on the little couch, so he says he doesn’t need to sit. You run to the back of the store, taking a pomade from the bathroom. “Here, put this. It should avoid a bump.” He thanks it and puts a little on his forehead. You look at him while he does it. 

He has to take his light brown fringe out of his face to rub the pomade on his forehead. His hands are big, with bony and really long fingers that end on good-cared nails. His eyes are honey like color, and he has a mullet on the back of his head. He ends applying the pomade and takes his hand back down. He offers you the other.

“Jean Kirstein. Just in case you want to pay me a coffee.” You blush. After all, you hit him. Maybe you should invite him to drink something. Your half morning break starts now, so you take his hand.

“Y/N. And, casually, I have a break now. Where do you want to take a cup?”

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Jean opened the door this time and that made you laugh. He closed behind him and searches a free table with his tall body. He walks towards one.

“Sorry, I opened it, I still have war flashbacks.” You laugh and you both ask for your drinks. “So, Y/N, you should look more at doors.” you laugh.

“I know, I know. My bad, sorry.” you say. He shows a big smile.

He’s attractive, you can’t deny it. From his marked jaw to his smooth clavicle, seen through the open buttons of his shirt. Also, he has a really cute smile. He looks around, to all the people in the café. He smiles at you.

“So, you work on a book shop?”

Jean and you keep talking while you drink your coffees. He tells you he has been working on some art pieces lately. As you could suppose, he’s a painter. 

“I wish I could live just by painting. I work on an office all afternoons.” He says. The smile on his face fades a bit when he talks about the office. You listen to him quietly, his face quietly changing when you ask him more about his paintings. The break passes fast and he decideds to give you his number.

"You know. That way you don't need to hit me on the face with a door." you laugh and blush again. Is he going to forget it?

"Please, don't tell anyone..." you ask. He nods and leaves, a huge smile on his face. You feel butterflies.

Does liking someone feel like this?

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jkst: sorry, i disappeared today. i had a date.

You let the towel fall from your head while you read the message, the other towel around your body.

outofcoolnames: oh wow, a date.

You felt uncomfortable. Kir had a date. But well, you don’t know him. He has to search someone to date, after all.

jkst: jealous? :P

outofcoolnames: nah. i also got one.

Now is Jean the one looking at his phone with frown brows. He has no shirt on and he’s lying on his bed. He sits to read that message twice. You look at the paper with Jean's telephone number. Should you call him today? maybe tomorrow? or maybe send a message to let him know your number.

outofcoolnames: i think that silence means you’re jealous :D

Jean doesn’t know why, but he is. Damn, of course he is. He shouldn’t because you’re just internet friends, you didn’t saw each other. He doesn’t know how you look, what personality you have or if you’re even on the same country as him! 

jkst is typing...

jkst is online

jkst is typing...

jkst is online

jkst - last connection, now

You look at it. Has he just left? The hell? What is wrong with this guy? You let out a sigh and change to the other app. You introduce Jean's number and search him on the list, your lip between your teeth. You find him. His profile picture is a cute selfie of himself and a little cat. You message him.

y/n: hey, i'm y/n. this is my number if you want to adress it.

His answer comes in seconds.

Jean: oh, the door friend. cool, adding you.

That way of jocking, that way of tyiping. Why does it remember you to Kir? You shake your head. It doesn't. It's just that Kir left unexpectedly.

y/n: yeah i'm sorry, i hit you with the door. should we see each other another time?

Jean: sure. why not tomorrow? when's your break?

Wow, tomorrow. The guy is fast as hell. You check the other app, but Kir isn't online. You send him a quick message.

outofcoolnames: hi?

Again, no response, no connection. You go back to the other chat quickly. You answer that your break is tomorrow at 11:30, as it was today.

Jean: i'll make the effort to wake up that early. see you tomorrow.

y/n: bye :D

You go to sleep, but you check the other app a couple times.

On the next street, lying on his bed, Jean checks it too.

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"Good morning, y/n" he says when you enter the café. You search Jean. He's playing with his phone, moving it between his hands. You take a seat in front of him. You put yours on the table, side up. He does the same and you order some coffee. As the other day, you talk casually about a lot of things.

"Jean!" you hear a boy calling him. Jean looks around and finds the owner of the voice. He's a tall man, with a bun. Holding his hand, a black-haired girl smiles at Jean.

"Wow, Eren and Mikasa, the happy married couple!" Jean looks at you. "Could you excuse me for a moment? I promise I'll be back as fast as I can." He winks at you and gets up. You take your phone from near his. You enter the app. Kir has entered before, but he didn't answer you. You sigh and type.

outofcoolnames: look, kir, i... i was joking. i really like this guy and i think he also likes me but... when i'm here... i think about you. it is dumb because i don't know you. but i do. please, come back.

When you hit the send button, Jean's phone illuminates and sounds. The same sound your app has.

Wait a damn minute. Why did his app sound when you sent the message?

It has to be a coincidence. You debate between trying again and leaving it, but one more message isn't going to be a catastrophe. You tip again.

outofcoolnames: kir?

Again, his phone illuminates and sounds. Does that mean he is Kir?

You look behind you. Jean keeps talking with the couple. He said his last name before, it was something with a K, right? K, K, K....

Kirstein. Kirstein, right? He's not called Kir. It is a part of his surname. You enter fast his user. jkst. Jean Kirstein. Jean Fucking Kirstein. You look at him again. That's why his way of texting reminds you of him. That's why you think of Kir when Jean talks. Because it's the same person.

You like Kir. You like Jean. You like the two versions of the same person. Jean comes back quickly and he sits. He takes his phone. "Oh, did it sound?" he asks. But you can only look at him. You look at his hazel eyes. The eyes you wanted to see for so long, the lips you wanted to meet. They are all there. Kir is there.

"Do you use... ChatApp?" you ask, with quite voice. Jean smiles, blushed.

"I... I do.. I've met a person there. We chat often. Their username is really cool."

"The username is literally outofcoolnames." you reply.

"Yeah, but it gives like... What?" he looks at his phone. "Did you read my messages?"

You take your phone from under the table, the chat with jkst opened.

"No. I wrote them."

Jean looks at your phone. That's his ChatApp account. That's your ChatApp account. That is your chat. His head was a mess. He liked two people. But you're both of them? Is this fortune?

"You... You don't know how much I wanted to meet you." he sighs. He admires every single detail of your face. They all are like in your descriptions. He has been so blind.

"I also wanted to meet you. But Jean appeared before Kir. I liked Kir, but I assumed he had his partner, and you looked really interested..." you whisper.

"Do you believe in destiny?" he asks. He takes his phone to the table again. You shake your head. "Then, how do you explain that I fell in love with the same person twice?" he says. "Not once. Twice. With your personality through a screen, and with you all in your book store. This are signals. We belong together." you look at him. That's Jean, but he's also Kir. Your Kir.

The boy that made you feel so much through a simple screen. The one that is smiling at you now. Looking at you with sweet and hazel eyes. He uninstalls the app in front of your asking eyes.

"We don't need this anymore. Now we are face to face. And I hope it is for a long time."

#aot fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fluff #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #aot fanfiction #snk headcanons #jean attack on titan #jean snk #jean aot #jean shingeki no kyojin #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean x you #jean x y/n #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean fluff

[aliwritesfic]

First Date (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader)

Summary: Frankie only downloaded Tinder after Santi basically forced him to one night, and he never expected to actually meet anyone on there.

Word count: 2.4k

Content warnings: Oral (F receiving), P in V, age gap, online dating, condom used

(I haven’t written creatively in almost 7 years so if this is a waste of time I apologise, also tagging @absurdthirst because i sent them an anon last night about being nervous to post this lmao)

Frankie looked at your photo again and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. He wasn’t used to this whole online dating thing, and he certainly hadn’t expected to meet anyone on it. Pope swore by it for one-night stands and fuck buddies, and practically forced him to download the app and create a profile while they were all at their favourite bar and Benny had gone home with some girl. He’d swiped right on only a few people and made even less matches. Any conversations he’d had on there fizzled out after a few hours after telling them he didn’t have Snapchat, or Facebook, or Twitter, or anything else like that.

Then he’d matched with you.

Your profile was simple – a couple selfies, a photo on a hike with a beautiful staffy, and a group shot on a night out. Your bio was short and sweet – criminal justice and community welfare student, intersectional feminist, nerd. Lover of cheesy one liners and bad jokes.

Frankie had swiped right almost immediately. The only thing that gave him pause was the age gap – twelve years between you. There were bigger gaps, of course, but he’d never dated anyone more than two years younger.

“You’re both grown adults,” Pope said looking over his shoulder, “what the fuck are you waiting for?”

So, with that, Frankie swiped right and was instantly greeted with a match. His stomach jumped again as you sent the first message, a simple but effective ‘hey, what do teachers and ancient history have in common? They both Babylon!’

You both chatted for a few more days before Frankie decided enough was enough. He asked you out for dinner and drinks at a local sushi place that had recently opened. He felt ill as he waited for your reply, wondering if it was too soon. It was almost an hour later that you replied ‘YES! How’s fri at 8:30 sound?’

It was a date. His first in over a year. The boys had come over to help him get ready, feeling like he was in high school all over again.

Frankie stood outside the restaurant, wishing he hadn’t left his cap in the truck, or at least wishing he’d picked somewhere that didn’t seem like it had an unwritten dress code. But he’d wanted to impress, and the reviews of this place had been positive.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and moved towards the hostess. “Table for two, under Morales.”

“Right this way sir,” the hostess smiled at him and led him towards a table near the back, and Christ you were already there.

You were even more beautiful in person, in a tight dark dress, heels and a denim jacket thrown over the back of your chair. You were reading the menu, a small frown on your face as you squinted at it. You didn’t even notice him approach until he was standing right next to you. When you looked up, your mouth transforming into a grin, his heart skipped a beat.

“Frankie?” You said, your name sounding like heaven on your lips. Frankie sat down opposite you, his palms suddenly sweaty.

“Hey,” he went to say your name and you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Please, everyone I like calls me Sunny,” you grinned at him and he knew exactly why.

“Well, Sunny,” Frankie felt himself grin back at you, “it’s nice to finally meet you properly.”

“I’ve been so nervous all day,” you admitted, “but a good nervous, like nervous excited. I was supposed to be making notes on one of my lectures today, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this date. It’s been so long since I’ve been on one, I just stressed myself out about it all day.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Frankie laughed, relieved to know that the insanely beautiful woman in front of him was just as out of sorts as he was. He was beginning to feel more at ease with you already, something he hadn’t felt with someone new in a long while.

The waitress arrived then, beaming down at you as she asked if you were ready to order. Frankie ordered a plate of sashimi and a spicy crab roll, while you got a veggie roll, and you both ordered a shot of soju.

“Don’t like fish?”

You shrugged, “I’m allergic, not like deathly or anything but I get a rash and a really bad stomach ache. It sucked when I was travelling through Asia a few years ago.”

Frankie frowned, instantly regretting even suggesting the restaurant in the first place. “We can go somewhere else if you like,” he suggested, ready to do anything he could to make this a perfect first date.

“Oh god, no!” You smiled and Frankie’s stomach jumped. “I’ve been wanting to come here for a while now, so when you suggested it, of course I was gonna say yes.”

Frankie felt a little relieved at that, and you two talked for a while, waiting for your meals. He found out your dog was called Lola, you loved old music, and you were a disability support worker before your close cousin went to prison and you decided to enrol in university to study criminal justice. You found out he was a pilot, ex-military and he loved classic lit.

You continued to talk through your meal and several more drinks. He was beginning to deeply enjoy the sound of your voice, your laugh. You made him feel like you two were the only people in the room, everyone else was insignificant.

Eventually though, you both felt it was time to give up your table to someone actually paying. You tried to pay for your own meal and drinks, but Frankie insisted on paying. You both walked outside into the chilly night air, and Frankie couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you were even under the streetlights. You cleared your throat and Frankie noticed a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“I uh, I don’t really want this night to end, do you?” you asked. Frankie decided to do what he could feel himself wanting to do all night.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you as he cupped your soft cheeks in his rough, calloused hands and kissed you. Your reaction was almost immediate, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair, pressing your bodies together. Your tongue darted along his bottom lip and he instantly granted you access, his own tongue sliding into your mouth. He wanted you. Desperately.

“Do you want to come back to mine,” Frankie asked, his hands slid down to your waist, he kissed along your neck, feeling your pulse flutter under his lips. You moaned softly as his mouth found your collarbone.

“Yes,” you whispered, “god yes.”

He kissed you again, before breaking away to lead you back to his truck.

“How far?” you asked.

“Five minutes,” Frankie said, resting his hand on your upper thigh where the hem of your dress ended. He felt himself tighten in his jeans as he thought about what he wanted to do to you. He driver faster than necessary, turning the journey into a quick three minutes. Once the truck was off you didn’t waste a moment, pulling yourself onto his lap, straddling him between your thighs. Your lips met his frantically, like you were both starving for each other.

Frankie’s hardness pressed against his jeans as you ground against him. He kissed down along your neck and jaw, relishing in your soft moans. One hand stayed planted firmly on your ass, the other snaked up your body to your breasts, pulling your dress down to expose them. You weren’t wearing a bra, and the sight of your breasts in the silver moonlight was irresistible. Frankie’s lips kissed a path down your neck to your collarbone, down further still until he had a hard nipple in his mouth. His tongue flicked over it gently, while his hand played with the other, rolling it around between his finger.

“Frankie,” you moaned, arching your back to give him better access. “Fuck.”

“You like that baby?” he whispered looking up at you. You whimpered in response as the hand on your breast moved down your body toward your thighs.

“Please,” you spread your legs a little further for him, and his fingers began to massage your clit though your soaking underwear. Frankie’s tongue continued to work at your nipple licking and sucking while you cried out in pleasure.

His fingers teased the outside of your entrance, his thumb working your clit in methodical circles.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, his voice husky. You moaned in response, unable to form any words as his fingers slid easily inside of you. Frankie watched your face as he fingered you, his own cock straining against his jeans. God he wanted to fuck you, but not until you’d already cum for him.

Frankie moved his thumb in faster circles and you began to fall apart. You clenched around his fingers, crying out as your body shook with your orgasm. He moved his mouth up to kiss you, whispering between kisses.

“Fuck you’re so sexy,” he groaned.

“We need to go inside,” you panted, your body still trembling slightly. Frankie couldn’t agree more, fumbling with the door of his truck, then his house keys. The moment the door was open you were on him, pulling his jacket off his shoulders, unzipping his jeans. Your bodies moved together in the direction of the kitchen, knocking something down in the process.

Frankie moaned into your mouth as your hands glided up his torso under his shirt. He pressed you against the counter and lifted you up, yanking your dress down to your ankles in the process.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered in your ear, “do you want that?”

“Yes, Frankie, please,” you begged, desperate for him to touch you. He grinned slyly as he crouched down slightly in front of you and spread your legs. The sight of your underwear, drenched with desire, made his mouth water.

Frankie didn’t want to waste a single moment more. With one quick move he slid your underwear down your legs and was working your clit with his tongue. Two fingers moved inside of you and quirked in a come-hither motion.

Your whine of pleasure spurred him on, his tongue massaging your clit expertly. Frankie wanted to tell you how good you tasted, how sexy you sounded, but he didn’t want to waste a moment that could be spent pleasuring you.

“Frankie!” you gasped, your back arching. Your thighs pressed into the side of his head and he moved faster, harder, cock aching with the need to be inside you.

“Frankie, I’m gonna-“ your words were cut short by your orgasm, this one somehow more intense than the one in his truck. Frankie looked up at your face as you came, mouth never leaving your sweet wetness. Your head hung back, moans the only sound you’re able to make. Licking his lips, Frankie stood and cupped the back of your head gently, lifting it so he can look in your eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone as beautiful as you come home with him, but he wants to make certain it’s worth your while.

He leant down and whispered your name, the sound sweet on his lips. You sat up and kissed him gently, tasting yourself on him.

“Where’s your bed?” you murmured and Frankie smiled against you. Without another word he picked you up easily, wrapping your legs around his waist and carried you to his room, laying you gently on the bed. You looked beautiful, naked in the moonlight, staring up at him with desire.

Frankie discarded the rest of his clothes and climbed onto the bed so he’s hovering over you. His fingers traced soft circles on your waist.

“Are you sure you want to?” he asked

“I need you in me,” you reached up and pulled him closer, “I need you.”

Frankie reached over to his dresser and grabbed a condom, saying a silent thanks to his past self for buying them, and fitted it onto his shaft. Then he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He lined himself up at your slick entrance, and slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt you with his larger than average size. You whimpered slightly as he pulled out, bucking your hips to stay closer to him.

Fuck you felt so good, you tight walls clenching slightly with each thrust. His thrusts became harder, slamming into you as his own ecstasy built. He moaned your name as you held onto his biceps, nails digging into his warm sweaty skin.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold off on his own release, and with you looking at him they way you were, you made it almost impossible to hold back. But no, he wouldn’t. Not until you came a third time for him. He needed to feel you cum with his cock inside you.

Frankie moved his hand so it was between you both, and began to massage your slick, swollen clit. You cried out and clenched his biceps harder, and he felt the moment you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer, your walls tightening around his cock, coating it with your pleasure.

“Cum, Frankie,” you whispered in his ear, and god he wanted to. Frankie grunted as he finally couldn’t hold back any longer. Pleasure flushed through his body as he came to the sound of you moaning his name. In that moment, the only tangible things were his orgasm, the feel of you and your voice. It was a few moments before his thoughts became coherent again. He had never experienced pleasure like that with any other woman.

Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, noticing a bead of sweat that had formed between your breasts. Your eyes were half closed, but you watched him as he discarded the condom into a wastebasket, grabbed a box of tissues and with a touch gentler than he thought possible for him, began to clean up between your legs.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. “Do you know how amazing you are?”

You giggled softly, sitting up to kiss him. “You’re the one who made me cum three times. Most guys can’t even manage once.”

Frankie stroked your cheek, his forehead pressed against yours, deciding in that moment you were someone he did not want to let go of. “Wanna stay the night?”

“Fuck yes.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie smut

[jjkpls]

first love (m)

genre : fluff, angst, light smut

pairing : kim seokjin x reader (f)

word count : 4.6k

warnings/content : mentions of sexual intercourse, mature language, infidelity, separated parents, unresolved past relationship, dad!seokjin, mom!reader

Seokjin doesn't mean to overreact. He knows he shouldn't. Knows you hate it. Knows, because he's been told enough times, that these types of reactions are unnecessary and possibly harmful for a child.

He can't really help it when deep down he knows he was meant to be an actor. Right before his actual birthday, his mother had dreamt of giving birth on a theatre stage, for God's sake.

But his father wasn't into it, given his ambitions, his own growing company and all the promising opportunities he envisioned both for him and for his only son. Therefore Seokjin went to law school, graduated with excellent mentions, followed an accelerated program in business development and managing and joined his father exactly where he was expected.

He isn't exactly complaining.

He likes his job, most of the time, likes the money and luxury that come with it especially and appreciates the work safety.

Now, you can't blame him for being quite the drama queen in his everyday life. All that pent up, buried alive passion for the arts of acting need to express, somehow.

That's what he'd say to you when you used to yell at him for starting weeping loudly in your ear when he'd call you to cancel a date last minute because he couldn't come, instead of just, cancelling it, aplogize, get over it like a normal person.

Or when you'd kick him in the ribs because he'd be all wild gestures and screeching screams when he'd teach your son to ride a bike and he would fall, as he should to learn, making the boy cry even when he wasn't hurt, solely from the projection of his dad's fear.

You're not here to tell him yourself but the glazed, annoyed roll of his son's eyes tells him precisely what you would. Those eyes are the worst. The prettiest he's ever seen. The ones he loves the most. The ones you also wear on your own pretty face.

"Since when?" He has a hand pressed to his chest, preventing a heart attack it seems, gaze wide and alarmed. Timothy sighs.

"A while. They were already together for Valentine's Day-" He explains patiently. That kid is sweet. The way he's slumped over, obviously annoyed to have to be the one telling his dad and having to deal with the consequences but still, he's watching over him with a soft eye, mouth torn in a sympathetic pout. He wouldn't mind his parents to get back together even though he is almost sure it wouldn't be a good idea for the both of you. He's heard tales of dysfunctional families, of parents hurting each other and their children and doesn't want that for any of you. He can't imagine it happen. You two are too good for that. That's probably why you had decided to separate in the first place.

Seokjin is quickly making maths in his head. Not really counting the time but situating himself in that time frame. Where was he at when she was out with this guy? What was he doing?

He may have been in Japan when it started. He remembers a call from you, you were asking him to take Timothy for a couple of days. You sounded embarrassed and he didn't know why but couldn't take the time to investigate, he had a flight expecting him and a conference call waiting to start in a couple of minutes. Important stuff. None of it would have mattered if he had known what you were up to.

"You okay, dad?" Timothy asks, awkward but kind. His mom basically.

"Devastated." Seokjin says with the widest grin on his face. He's not devastated. It'd be ridiculous to be for something absolutely predictable, fair and normal. He's not mad, nor disappointed. You deserve to be seeing people, have them desire you and make you feel good. He wishes it were him but if he can't do that, if you won't let him, he's glad you still can allow someone else to do it.

He's surprised though, he can't lie about that.

Honestly. That's stupid. But he didn't expect one second that you were seeing someone. You never mentioned anything and you didn't look like it. If there's a way you look when you're dating.

He remembers rosy cheeks and short skirts. You were younger.

"You think it's serious?" He asks casually, surprising even himself. His heart is in a turmoil but he showed enough to Timothy, acting like he was half dying, gasping for air and all.

"I don't know. She doesn't want to bring him home yet. Like, introduce him to me. I asked." Timothy, not only is he nice, he is smart. He's thirteen, shouldn't know much about Love and adults' matters yet. He's supposed to still be at that stage when one believes children and adults are two very distinctive race of humans, one that depends on the other and the other having it all figured it out, having reached a certain knowledge and expertise on all things and can't really be wrong on accident.

Timothy knows precisely what his dad would love to hear. And he gives it to him. Not to feed him vain hopes. Not even for this tiny hidden greed to have you back together. Simply because it's the truth and if for once the truth is pleasant to hear, then he should give it. Seokjin's smile only gets brighter. He shares a glance with his son, a glint winking his way and Timothy rolls his eyes, unable to hide the lift of the corners of his lips.

"Anyway, I heard you won that science fair at school?" Seokjin has already left his seat on Timothy's bed. He's rummaging through his leather bag and Timothy knows what it means. He has a present for him. Seokjin always has a present for him. Most of the time, he can justify it by some event or some success Timothy had encountered. The thing is they don't see each other that often, therefore, almost systematically, something new has come about and Seokjin can explain why he's brought a brand new console, a new laptop, a TV for his room or that one limited edition of this way too expensive branded pair of sneakers.

You used to get really mad at that. You'd say that he shouldn't, that he didn't need to bring him all these expensive stuff because what he'd like (it was a long time ago when Timothy was too young to have his own opinion and you would speak for him) is for his dad to be here more often. You'd say he wouldn't have to buy him shit for any other times than Christmas and his birthday if only he could be here for him. His dad would be his present.

It caused a lot of drama, a lot of crying. You had made sure not to scream, not to be too angry but Timothy felt from the way you squeezed him hard against your bosom that you were very upset. His dad had apologized, had said the most with his eyes only for you to understand. Timothy was staring, trying to get it too because he was involved, wasn't he? But that was one of those adults moments he wasn't allowed to participate in yet.

From then on, his dad wasn't late anymore when he'd set dates with him, his phone would be turned off when they were together and he would text him more often.

It was really nice. Because at first, Timothy felt that maybe if his dad wasn't so present it was because he didn't want to. For some reasons. He thought maybe he was too much of a coward or too nice possibly, to leave you two altogether, to disappear from your lives and start another one somewhere else, one he would have chosen and shaped as he'd want. Turns out Seokjin really appreciated his son and the time he got to spend with him. The more time they spend together, the more Timothy is met with awed eyes and whistling lips, impressed as his dad is by his smartness, his humour and hidden talents. He just was very busy. You explained that to him. That he was passionate by his work, that it required a sacrificial amount of time in one's life, and that he shouldn't ever take it personally because even he loved you and couldn't give you that time.

It's the conversation that led him to think that maybe his parents are meant to be, except they won't because... circumstances.

In any case, no matter how often they meet now, Seokjin still brings him gifts each and every time. The difference is that he has to think of a reason, sometimes make one up to not be struck down by your fury.

"Yes, I did."

"Of course, you did! Cause my son is the smartest." Timothy waits for the moment he says that his brain and the magic fuel filling it all come from him. It doesn't come. Instead, a neat white box is held in front of his face. There's a pretty tie made of ribbons glued in the middle, to hide the picture of what's inside, but there's no doubt that this is an iPhone. He rips the tie off and surprise surprise it's the iPhone 12.

"Mom is going to kill you." Timothy says first, before even thanking him, heart pounding from excitement and face split in two by the wide banana grin.

"Probably." He shrugs, unapologetic.

"Thanks, dad!" Timothy doesn't forget to add, eyes shiny and toothy grin even shinier.

He hopes so. That you're going to be mad. You two are too old to have petty fights now. You don't waste your energy in screaming and finding the worst things to say to hurt his feelings. You just cross your arms under your tits, clench your jaws and adopt that pout on your mouth, eyelids low and eyebrows high, the embodiment of condescendence and you look sexy as hell. He smiles and winks at you, calls you by an old pet name and you're swooning even though you try to hide it. No one is charming like he is, and no one charms you as he does therefore he's not too worried.

His son was just going around with this prehistorical device you dared to call a smartphone. With the broken screen, and the non-functioning selfie cam and the safari app needing a good ten minutes to charge one fucking page -this was deliberate as you wanted him to have a phone to call and text you and not go and lose himself on the internet or whatever. He's almost fourteen though and he's doing a great job at school and is such a good kid at home, he deserves it.

"I know and I don't care. I don't need you to tell me my son is good." You are infuriated. The perfect picture of you he had imagined, the only difference is that, you've just walked out of work, you seem to have had a rough day and your hair is a mess. With the wild locks hanging off of your bun, framing your pretty face, you look even better. "I don't want him to have something so expensive on him, first of all."

"His dad is richer than Cresus, what do you expect?" The cockiness dripping from every pore should suffice to make you explode. Of course, it doesn't. He has that stupid side grin. The one he's got you with in the first place.

"And what about- internet and even just the darn AppStore? He's too young to-"

"Are you worried about porn?" He frowns, you flush. That's precisely one of the things you think about. You don't want him to fall upon stuff he doesn't need to see -in your opinion for a good ten years at least- or start taking interest in social medias where creepy fuckers could hang out.

You flush because apparently, it's a word complicated still to hear from him. "I've made a parental software installed in it. And a localisation too. Not that we really need it with him but you know."

"Oh." All tension escapes from your torn face and tensed shoulders.

"Oh, wow, my first love is such a good dad." He mocks, voice high, hardly resembling yours, barely biting back a smirk. He even goes as far as swiping the right side of his bangs back, eyes closed, mannerism insufferable.

"Shut up." More flush. A fist to his chest for punishment. Bad idea. Apparently, he went back to the gym.

"You should be nicer because I have something for you too." He says, eyes glancing mischievously as his hand dips in the pocket of his trench coat. "Well. I don't want it." You cross your arms on your chest again which only serves to push your tits forward to him and he wonders what you're playing at. Probably the same game he plays when he winks and smiles and lifts his eyebrow to you.

"Wait 'til you see it." He sees the moment you realize it's a jewellery box. He reads the instant wild excitement, he catches also the gloomy shadow you try to paint over it because you don't want to accept it. How many times does he need to be told to stop? He won't ever stop.

"You can't buy me, Seokjin." You're eyeing the velour box in his hand, a tiny beautiful red in this large pearly white palm. You want it. You always do. You don't dare uncross your arms though because you know that if you even do something as reckless as taking it in your hand, just to have a look at it, you won't be able to refuse it.

"Of course, I can." More of that smirk. You glare, it makes him wheeze as he does.

You have never ever been able to refuse any of his shiny presents. You're not a gold digger, that's precisely why you felt so guilty all the time, accepting to receive from him things you could never afford for him -or yourself. He's born richer than you'll ever be, he loves to spend it on his loved ones -and on cars and designer clothes- and amongst everything else he loves, he adores covering you in shiny little rocks.

No one has ever worn diamonds the way you do. You look beautiful without them, magnificent with them. They were made to enhance your beauty and you were made to give them sense.

"You're such a dick." You say, tone way too monotonous to still have been in total control of your free will. Your eyes are glued to the shine of the two dainty clear earrings nested in the case. He's holding it open in front of your nose, like a hypnotizing stick. He sees your determination wavers. Your arms have just untied. Your hand is getting close. He smiles already savouring his victory.

"Take them, petal, I don't think your new boy could ever afford them." Your hand freezes mid-track, face falling you look up. He's a bit surprised to see guilt in those eyes. Shame and guilt. Even though, you have the right to see whoever you want. Obviously.

"How-" His head tilts slightly towards the hallway, where the bedrooms and the one Timothy is in, probably playing with his new phone. "Great. Bribing our son into giving you off my personal information."

"I gave him the iPhone after he told me." Seokjin feels the need to precise. His son loves him and he confided for this very reason. He wants to believe. He hopes that it's not because he's worried his dad would have a mental breakdown if he were to learn the news the day his mom would invite him to their wedding or something.

You sigh. You don't know what to say it seems. He doesn't want you to feel upset. He's not going to congratulate you either. He can't.

"Take them."

"He could- he's a doctor, you know." You sound like a petty little girl saying that, fingers aiming for the box but mouth reshaped by contempt.

Thankfully, the mesmerizing glee on your lovely face makes up for this last information.

A doctor.

He snorts, huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Are you really being disdainful over the noblest of all professions?"

"I bet he's not as handsome as I am." Seokjin says, staring away into space in a very Vogue kind of pose.

"And it's relevant because your face saves lives too, right?" You add to his clownery, biting on the smile wanting to take over your face.

"Precisely." You're already putting them on, watching your fingers work in the reflection on the microwave door. He's loving it. One is on, reflecting the light coming from the window, bringing a new sense to your whole stance. You don't look tired anymore. You look very fancy. Sexier than before. Your butt sways a little in excitement when you take a new look at yourself, now beautifully decorated and he's reminded of an idea he once had but never got to realize.

He wanted to have a fashion designer make a garter holder made of tiny diamonds. Solely diamonds. It would fit you just right, maybe a bit tight on you, would dig slightly in the meat of your thighs, enough to look fucking sinful and not too much so it doesn't hurt. He was quite young when he had the idea first and was probably not rich enough to make it happen.

He now owns a few palaces perched on the last stage of skyscrapers in three of the most expensive cities in the world and he would sell one in a beat if it meant he could get that for you and see you wear it for him.

You'd probably end up accepting it and then wear it for your new boy so that's out the question.

He doesn't hesitate when he reaches a hand forward, slip his fingers through the tie holding your hair in a bun and slide it off. You don't even flinch, he's still allowed to do that.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you." You whisper with a smile, both for the compliment and for the present.

"You went to the hair salon." You nod, forcing yourself not to show your surprise. He doesn't need it to throw himself some flowers, "See? I noticed." He adds with way too much pride for so little.

"Your lenses work, congratulations." Sarcasm is the only answer to his stupidity, you both have figured this out long ago. "Is he nice?" Seokjin can't help but ask. He doesn't want to know too much about him. Kind of hopes that it won't be necessary as the guy won't last too long. But he can't resist his curiosity.

"Yes." You say without much of a hesitation. "Last week, he took me to this nice French restaurant in Songpa." You tell, eyes looking away, a bit pensive, mindlessly playing with one strand of your hair. Your face is taken over by that air. Seokjin realizes then that you really like him.

"I used to take you to very nice restaurants all the time, remember?" He's just messing around now. He knows it's not that relevant. Knows it won't get him higher in your regard,

"And I would spend half the date with the waiter while you'll have yours with your phone. I do remember." Especially given you don't recall your common past the same.

He does remember now that you mention it. His memory has been awfully selective and mainly, what he could picture when he thought about those times, is how beautiful you looked, how much he wanted you and felt like even sitting right next to you, he couldn't satisfy that need, was missing you even if you were right there, and the mind-blowing sex too. The later probably happening because he owed to make it up to you because indeed, his job was on the dates too and you hated that. He remembers the late mornings, the lazy ones, you'd make him carry you on his back because your legs and your hips hurt too badly.

"Ouch!" Toppling over, hand on his bosom where it actually really hurts, he yelps in agony, pretending to have been shot. You giggle and slap his shoulder, pester him to stop when you both hear Timothy ask from his room if everything's okay. You'd think he would know by now that his dad is just a clown whose shenanigans shouldn't be taken seriously.

"Are you seeing someone these days?" What a shame, Seokjin really thought for once he'd be solely cool and collected and handsome. Instead, he can feel his ears start to burn in embarrassment, walks a few steps back, pretending to want to throw a glance through the window when really, he'd do anything to not have see you notice.

"Someone?" He huffs. "Some three, actually some four or five. You know how the ladies get with me-" He sounds dumb as hell. It suffices to make you laugh. You've always laughed at his antics. Even when you were going through complicated times, like the pregnancy and the soon to follow break up, he'd try to dry your cheeks and lighten your gaze, heartbroken as he was to see you like that, and it would always work.

"And I know how bad you are with maths." He nods, doesn't look at you, simply stares at the shiny tip of his italian shoes. "You should call me sometimes, Jin." You don't need to tell him, he knows. You say that to him almost every single time. It's just you being kindhearted, the way you've always been. But first, he hates the idea that somehow, to some degree, it's a pity hand you're holding out for him. And secondly, he knows he'll fuck up if he calls.

He won't be able to talk about his job or politics or what's on the dumb tv these days. He'd probably start by asking what you're wearing and end it all by serenading you. What a bad idea. "You don't ever call, only Tim. Which is fine but-" He is lonely, he does miss you, but he's not that stupid. "I miss you too, you know." You look awfully sincere when you say this. There's still a sad shade to your eyes and he suspects it comes from you worrying about him rather than you simply wanting him more in your life. Maybe it's there for both reasons. He can't be mad at you for caring about him still, can he? Ultimately, it's sweet. It's not your fault he tends to be a loser in his very personal life.

He wouldn't know who he is trying to comfort when he strides forward and place a kiss on your cheek. The other one he's cradling in his palm feels warmer the longer he touches it. He doesn't let it go once he backs up and away. You're looking up to him with your eyes looking all round and childish. Quiet and in expectancy. You look like you do when you would wait for him to kiss you. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he smirks.

"Expecting me to kiss you?" He asks with an eyebrow raised high. Pretend judgment in his tone, even remonstrance. As if. "How scandalous, when you already have a boyfriend." You know he's just kidding and he can tell that. He wouldn't play with that if he wasn't sure. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings, make you feel wrong or bad in any way. He loves you too much for that. You could let him kiss you and he wouldn't hold you accountable for it. Therefore he does. Because he's dying to since the last time it happened a couple of weeks back. And when your own lips welcome his, with that much willing and tenderness, he suspects you've had too.

He doesn't allow it to go too far. He thought you would stop him, at some point, but you don't. He's the one pulling away when his tongue, instinctively, means to reach out for your own. He knows what comes after that, and what comes after that and after and after. And even if you transpire guilt and shame, he can sense in the way your eyes stare into his that you would have let it all happen.

He's not lacking in desire, he hopes you know that. Honestly, since earlier, and that random flash of the diamond garter holder, his brain is half clouded by the thought of your thighs and his face buried in between them. You used to make the most delicious sounds, pulling at the root of his hair and chasing your high with your hips. Also now that he's met your mouth again and he envisioned what could happen if he just let go, he can't help but think about that dresser in your room. The gigantic thing you wanted him and Timothy to put together as sort of a father and son enterprise to bound or whatever - he ended up paying a guy to do it for them and they played Mario Kart instead but you don't need to know that. Point of the matter is, that massive dresser has a massive mirror on its door and that massive mirror sits perfectly in front of your bed. And all he can think about is how bad he'd like to fuck you on your bed while you'd watch yourself in it. He'd pull back your hair, hold in tight in his fist like he knows you love so you could see your own cute face while his cock would reshape your cunt to its fitting, all this with the pretty little shiny earrings adorning your ears.

Fuck, what a concept.

And it is to say that right now, he knows, you'd let him. He's not that wicked though. He feels your too weak to resist him today therefore he's not even going to chance it. He doesn't want you to do something you'd hate yourself for afterwards.

"I should go, I still have documents to send for a new contract before-" He takes a look at the expensive watch heavy on his wrist, you roll your eyes. "Half an hour ago, great." He offers you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes no matter how hard he tries before he's off to the hallway, giving you his broad back. "I'm going to say bye to Tim."

"It's just- like that, Seokjin." The words are pretty badly chosen. They don't mean much. Seokjin still gets it though. He can picture you behind him, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head to the side. It doesn't mean much.

"I know, petal. Don't worry." He throws over his shoulder, faux lightness in his tone even though his heart feels raw. It doesn't mean enough, is more accurate. This kiss like every single one of your shared looks and words and bickering and touches, they all mean that you still fit perfectly good together. However, it's not enough because somehow, someday, you came to the conclusion that you were not meant to be. He's confused as to why and how he agreed with you then. Here's the main reason why he never calls you.

When Timothy looks up from his new phone, wearing your eyes and his smile, he feels a whole new range of pain affected to his sensitized heart. How can you not see that you're meant to be?

A/N: Happy Lunar New Year :) this little thingy was inspired by Arsène Lupin and the relationship between Assane and Claire for those who watched it! I don’t know if i translated well the alchimy and unfightable attraction and connection they still have even after having seperated. ANYWAY, hope you all are doing fine, hope you liked this, LET ME KNOW what you thought, tell me about your day, your resolutions if you have any, what’s the weather like where you at etc lmao xoxo

PS: stay tuned for a new upcoming series i’m quite excited about ~~

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #ksmutclub #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin scenario

[iguessilovebakugou]

In Search of Silver Linings, We Discovered Gold ||  Bakugou x Fem!Reader (x Shinsou) ||  Happier pt 3 ||  Series

I really feel like Sleeping At Last’s “Two” resonates with Shinsou in this one.  But also for the Reader towards Bakugou just like...in general.  Also, I would suggest Gang of Youth’s “Achilles, Come Down” as well. And Lauren Aquilina’s “Fools”. 

One day I’m going to make a playlist for this fucking series - and then you bitches will be sorry.  

I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out.  I feel like nothing I would write would live up to what I did 2 years ago now.  So I really hope that people like this one just as much as the others. 

Part One!  Part Two!

Word Count:  7.7K TW:  Smooching, Death Mention

“Hey, you okay?”

It should be so easy to explain to them what you were feeling.  They where there with you.  They went through the same thing you had, right?  You were right there with Ochaco, sat right by her side and watched her tell Mr. Aizawa...you should be able to just...

“Yeah,”  You offered Asui a bright smile.  “Just...tired.  These make up classes are just...they’re really killer, you know?”

The dorm had been quiet by the time the raid team had made their way home from their extra classes. Everyone had already gone to bed, the common area devoid of life by the time you had settled on the couches. And you were happy for it.  Ever since...well, it had been a bit harder to be around everyone.  It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after everything that had happened, happened.  And you were supposed to just...move on from it.  Keep going forward.  No time to process.

You pulled out your phone to check your messages.  You had hoped Shinsou would have at least texted you - but you had been left on read.  You tried not to be upset about it and instead, pretended to go to another app and check your messages there.  You even got comfortable and put an arm behind your head - yep, perfectly relaxed and not at all wanting to break down on the inside.  

Tsu’s big bright eyes stared down at you.  You wondered if she felt the same - if Kirishima, Izuku or Ochaco felt the same.  You wondered if sometimes, during class, they just lifted their heads, looked around at your classmates and felt...so out of place.  The only way you could describe it was like stumbling in the middle of a skit being performed in the middle of a park, and no one seemed to quite realize you weren’t actually an extra.

But you didn’t want to run the risk of looking at her.  If she looked at you, she might realize that you hadn’t come to terms with what happened - with Nighteye, Lemillion, with that poor girl, Eri.  And that wouldn’t do.  That might lead into her asking what was wrong.  And what were you supposed to do then?  Answer her honestly?  Come to terms with your feelings like a rational, level headed adult?

You?  Nah. Never.

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Once you were certain her back was towards you, you risked a glance in her direction.  

Your body ached, your eyes were sore, and your mind felt blank but busy at the same time.  You weren’t sure where to begin with everything, where to start with trying to catch up.  But this had become your norm, and as sad as it was, it felt like your body was accommodating to the drama that had become commonplace in your life.  You watched as she met Ochaco at the base of the steps leading up to the rooms.  She seemed surprised when you didn’t move to join them, turning to give you a concerned glance and a lip pout - for extra measure.  

You smiled, lifting up your phone and giving it a little wave.  “I think I’m just going to hang out down here before heading to bed.”

“Oh,”  She muttered softly.  “Okay, if you’re sure?”

You knew she wasn’t buying the act - whatever it was - in the slightest.  You knew Nighteye’s death hit her hard.  A lot harder than you.  As it should have - you had tried to use your quirk to defend her and Nighteye, only to be overpowered and rendered unconscious when it mattered most so you weren’t technically cognizant when she had made her getaway.  But it must have been terrible, holding a man in your arms as he died.   And yet here you are moping about it.  What gives you the right?

“Yeah, I’m sure.”  Another smile, this time a little wider.  “Got some videos to watch, don’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up.”

You turned, ending the conversation there.  You stared at your phone, sitting on the home screen and not bothering to look back once you heard them make the ascent up the stairs to their respective rooms.  It had been getting harder and harder to sleep these past few days and you couldn’t spend another restless night staring at the same four walls anymore.  Watching the same videos, rereading the same texts, you would go insane.  With an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone to the side.  Hands found your face, fingers rubbing your eyes while reclining back, letting out a slow, low groan.

The lights in the common room were dim, just enough to find your way in case you stumbled down here in the middle of the night.  It was a small comfort, you figured to yourself, to have this moment alone.  To sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds of your friends around you, of the dorm settling snuggly down for another night’s rest.  And there you were, sitting by yourself in the common room.  Trying to decide if you were still mourning for a man you spoke to maybe a handful of times before you watched him get impaled on a spike or if you were ready to move on from it all.  Your head fell back limply against the edge of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to push any semblance of thought from your mind.  You just needed this one minute, one second for your entire world to just...stop running away from you.

If I could just get to him in time, maybe I could, I could help.  I could save him and be a hero and...

God, how dramatic could you get.  At least you hadn’t held the man in your arms as he lay dying.

With a sigh, you sat yourself back up and went back to your messages, pulling up the chat with Shinsou.  You hoped he was free.  Maybe even free enough to talk.  The empty feeling finding home in your chest was becoming too much.  You could use him, right now.  Maybe you could convince him to leave and come over.  You could watch a movie and just talk until you passed out.

Like friends did.

And if he was there, maybe it would so much easier to stay asleep. 

Hey.  We just got home.  Hope you’re...

Nope, delete.  Didn’t sound right.  

Hey!  You free right now?  I can’t sleep so

Nope, too eager.  

Shinsou, you loser get your ass over here

Nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to.  Nothing had ever sounded right.  You had so many things you wanted to say and yet never seemed to have the energy for it anymore.  Is this depression?  Do you have depression?  Do people who have depression know they have depression without being diagnosed with depression?  

You bit your lip, chewed on it until it grew sore and red and angry.  You needed your friend.  Your best friend.  Your only friend.  You missed hanging out with him, missed being able to text him weird shit and get a selfie of him looking bored at the camera just cause he knew it would make you laugh.  Cause you knew the weird shit you sent him made him laugh.  You wanted to see his face, to hear his voice.  You wanted it to go back before the dorms, back before whatever extra curricular thing he was doing.  But it wasn’t like he was doing this on purpose!  He was busy and you were just being fucking dramatic and needlessly stupid you didn’t even see Nighteye die but Deku did and he is holding himself together so much better and you would be okay if...if...

Why were you fucking crying now???????

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

“Hey.”

Given the recent events in your life, his gruff voice shattering the quiet of your isolation should have been expected.  Nevertheless, it still sent your heart skyrocketing into your throat.  You thought everyone had gone to bed and you could be a miserable wretch on your own time.  You jumped, sending your phone clattering to the ground and sliding under the coffee table.  The giant...granite...coffee table.  “Ah, shit, shit...”  You fell to your knees, trying to make a grab for it.  “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I thought I would find you down here.”

Shinsou had hardly heard from you since the night you got back from the raid.  He had seen the news that something had happened.  When you didn’t answer his morning text, he just hoped you were just being your normal self.  When you didn’t show up at lunch, he feared the worst.  He paced his room, hardly ate, did nothing but refresh his news feed to see if your name flashed by as a causality.  He figured no news was good news but waiting to hear from you was the hardest thing he ever had to do.  And the fact you hadn’t told him you were going in the first place and had to find out about it by overhearing one of your classmates mention it?

Ample payback it seemed.  Secrets had become your duo’s new norm - and he hated it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were told not to say anything to anyone.  I’m sorry, Shinsou.”

Your voice had sounded so off, so different in what little words you spoke.  Silence had never been so poignant until he experienced it from you.  As he laid in bed and stared at the phone on his pillow, his heart broke with each toss and turn he could hear from you.  He sat quietly, for that whole 2 hours as you tried to make sense of what you had just been through that day.  But you never said more than a few words and, even so, those were just a mask to hide the rest of the truth you wanted to keep hidden.  He listened, patiently, as you tried to place it all in order so you could begin to move past it.  

He hoped he had helped - in what little way he could.  In what minute way you had allowed him.  You were closing off and he so desperately wanted to cry out for you.  But he stayed quiet.  

And he felt entirely useless. 

He didn’t know exactly what happened; only what little information he had heard from Mr. Aizawa and even that had been bits and pieces.  Confidential, he said.  Bullshit, Shinsou thought.  If he was going to try to begin to figure out a solution to...whatever it was that plagued you, to lift your spirits, he needed to know exactly what happened.  But, when Shinsou had asked if you had been involved, if you were alright...?

“You’re friends with her, right?  She didn’t really seem to want to talk about it when I asked her after the fact.  But I figure that’s just because I’m her teacher.  Maybe you should be the one to check in on her instead.  She might actually open up to you.”

Open up to him.  

And that was the problem wasn’t it?  Something that always seemed to stand right between the two of you, pushing you in separate directions - opening up to each other.  It was a thought that occurred to him as he watched you spin your spoon around in your soup, but refused to eat.  The two of you had no problems talking, especially you.  You talked a lot, and he...didn’t.  You suited him fine.  More than fine.  

But what is talking if you’re not saying anything?  What was the point of being friends if you couldn’t even rely on each other to keep a secret, to lean on each other when everything seemed so fucking terrible.  Had he done you a disservice, hiding things from you?  Had he given you the impression that you couldn’t come to him for something so small as a crush on...ah, for something really small?  Had you transitioned from “don’t want to bother him with something silly” to “I can’t talk to him anymore period”?

Shinsou had always been the more straightforward one.  Where you seemed to be an endless supply of needless conversation and seemed to always dance around subjects, Shinsou was the one who could give it to you as plainly as possible.  And you knew that.  You knew him better than anyone, could understand him better than anyone.  

So when he didn’t give it to you as honestly, as plainly as he could have, it would stand to reason that you would be sent tumbling.

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

The text had come as a surprise.  Shinsou had been trying to sleep, but it was a rare commodity those days.  His mind swirled with thoughts of you.  Of how much he missed just you.  Your laugh, your stupid jokes.  Everything was starting to feel so hollow when he heard that soft ding from across the room.  To say he scrambled towards his desk where the phone lay charging was an understatement.  

I really miss you.

You were screaming for him and he hadn’t heard it.  You were sinking further and further and yet here he was, wondering and waiting for some sort of sign on what to do.  How he could fix it - but later.  He’s not strong enough now.  He’s not ready.  After he’s done with Aizawa.  After he’s a hero.  After after after.  Always cautious, always testing the waters.  

I just wish you were here.

You never waited, never paused, never hesitated.  When Bakugou was kidnapped, you rushed home and came up with a plan of action.  When you wanted to talk to him, you marched from your dorms, almost got into a fist fight, just to talk.  You were reckless in all the best ways.  In all the ways that made him want to scream, to touch you, to praise you, to love...to love you.

“I would be able to sleep if you answered your phone once in a while.”

He gripped his phone and hated that he had to draw one hand up to wipe his eyes.  Hated that his chest ached and hated that you even had to ask him.

“I wish you would have answered me.”

No more.  You would never have to ask him again.

He couldn’t pull his shoes on fast enough.  Before Shinsou could stop, rethink if this was a good idea, he was outside and making his way towards your dorm.  If he couldn’t help you now, when you needed it the most, when you were asking for him to pull you out from the waters...

His heart didn’t have the right to ache for you as much as it did. 

The two of you had done this so many times, Bakugou was surprised that you weren’t in the kitchen when he finally got down stairs.  The moment he got to the ground floor and saw you hunched over on the couch, his body froze.  

He had been hoping to have a bit more time to think of what he wanted to say.

“Is it just me, or has she not been the same since coming back from the raid?”

“No, I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask her about it?”

The frog grew quiet for a moment.  Bakugou had to strain to hear her response from down the hall.  “I think she’ll open up when she’s ready.”  She said softly.  “If we try to push the issue before then, it might just make matters worse.”

“Yeah,”  Uraraka responded, “I guess you’re right.  Still...I’m just worried.”

Worried.  For you.  

He didn’t want to think about why he was down in the commons, so late at night.  He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing your shaking shoulders, hearing the fast gasps you were making, ripped his very state of being apart.  He watched you, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it.  He didn’t like that you were in this state at all.

“Hey.”

He expected you to jump - it was a good thing that you did.  He would drag you out of whatever rut you were in, kicking and screaming if he had to.  

You got to your knees, cursing under your breath and scrambling for whatever you had been holding.  Probably your phone.  Bakugou stepped around the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Figured I would find you down here.”

You didn’t pay him any attention.  In fact, as you tried to reach under the coffee table, you kept your head turned - enough to where he couldn’t see your face.  You kept cursing, kept trying to reach desperately.  He watched you for a moment, feeling the frustration rise up inside of him.  You were ignoring him.  Like he wasn’t even there.  Like he wasn’t standing in front of you.

“Hey!”

“SHHH!”  You snapped to attention, pressing a finger to your lips.  He tried not to stare for too long.  “Do you want to wake the whole dorm!?”

“You should be in bed.”

Your stare lingered on him, for just a moment.  He refused to break eye contact first, refused to back down from the daggers you were sending his way.  You let out a huff, going back to searching for whatever it was that you had dropped.  “Couldn’t sleep.”

Bullshit.  He could tell.  It was a fact that he didn’t like to pay much attention to: tiny mannerisms that caught onto his attention like a hook.  You generally were so bright, hardly ever short.  Low energy, but not tired?  Sure.

He waited another minute.  “The others just got home.”

The slight pause.  Heh - you were like a book.  So easy to read.  “Oh.”  You said so matter-of-factly.  In another beat, you were back to searching, still focusing your gaze on the far side of the wall.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“So unless you got sent back early, I doubt you’ve even had a chance to try and sleep.”

Your fingers clenched, your fist shaking against the granite top.  Your body pulled up and away, resting in a rigid position.  But you were still refusing to look at him; in fact, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to see anything,  you put your face in your hand.  Still, you didn’t say a word, didn’t argue with him.  So he continued:  “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lie, at least keep track who you tell what.”

You didn’t respond.  And he wished it didn’t make him as angry as it did.  He wished that he had been able to stop the rage that bubbled in his stomach.  But he couldn’t.  He didn’t want you to hide anything from him.  He wanted you to feel comfortable telling him when something was hurting you.  After he laid it all bare for you a few weeks ago, you couldn’t be bothered to at least confide in him what the hell was going on in your tiny little world?

“...tch.”  Bakugou fingers slid under the edge of the coffee table.  “Grab the other side.”

You paused, turning to stare at him.  His eyes met yours and he saw so clearly how blood shot they were, your cheeks blotchy and burning.  You sniffled once, pushing a strand of hair back into place.  “Uh...wha?”

“Do you want your crap or not!?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...”  You pushed yourself up.  His eyes followed you as you stationed yourself on the other side like instructed.  “On three.  One-”

He didn’t bother waiting.  Up he lifted and you scrambled to meet him half way.

Just a little to the side - and the bright screen of your phone illuminated the living room.  It was closest to him, causing him to flinch just slightly when the glow blinded him.  He moved to grab it for you -

Before Bakugou could realize what was happening, your fingers brushed against his.  You both paused, your digits flinching away from him every so slightly.  He didn’t know if he should continue making the grab for it or if he should pull away.  He didn’t want to.  Your skin was so soft and warm and...

He could feel your eyes on him and almost was able keep his gaze away.  Almost able to hold off temptation.  But you were like that, weren’t you?  The light had dimmed, casting a soft glow over your features.  He wanted to look anywhere else - anywhere but at you.  But your eyes held his, demanded that he hold your attention.  He hated the soft sound that escaped him.  Hated the way his heart hammered in his chest as you stared at each other, fingers still touching ever so slightly.  

He shouldn’t feel this way about you.  But he did.

Bakugou pulled back with a grunt.  He could feel your eyes follow him as he stood back up and stepped away, away from you.  Why did you do this to him?  Why did you manage to make him the worst of himself?  Lord Explosion Murder - reduced to a sniveling little puppy, eager to please because a girl he kind of thinks is pretty sometimes makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.  

His fingers shook.  He shoved them back in his pockets to hide the evidence.

You plucked the phone off the ground and immediately hit the lock screen to turn the light off.  You were once against standing alone in the dark, though he could see you plainly.  Neither of you said a word.  He wished he could say something, not scream it but just say it.  His mind strained to find something meaningful to say to you, something catching or just enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts.  But you had the knack for words - he didn’t.  All he could do was leer at you, waiting for you to start conversation.  You always had something to say.  

You silently slipped your phone in the pocket of your skirt.  

There was something different about you.  A wall that was keeping you from him.  Maybe the girls’ concern for you had weight behind it.  You still didn’t look at him, eyes downcast.

He had hoped, that night in the kitchen, that things might have been different.  That maybe...someday...

“You got your damn phone.  Now go to bed.”  He turned on his heels and made his way back towards the stairs.  He was done.  He helped you out enough.  

Sometimes you were too much.  Messed with his head and pulled his mind in so many different directions, he forgot which way was up because right there with you was where he wanted to be. 

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

Your voice cut through the silence of the dorm like a knife.  He hadn’t expected you to speak up now, though it fit you.  Question, make him stay; just when he decided to leave.  And of course, because you asked him to stay - he would.

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Humor me.”

He regretted coming down here to talk to you.  He should have just stayed in the comfort of his room.  “Why?”

“Humor.  Me.”  

His eyes narrowed.  Even if you wrapped yourself around him, brought him to his knees and groveling in your steps, no one spoke to him like that.  He spun around, snarl behind gritted teeth.  Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?

Then he paused.

You were watching him and the hollow expression on your face shoved the rage back down into his stomach.  With just a glance, you quelled that fury.  Another noise, another shock. Then your eyes softened and your shoulders slumped.  You remembered where you were, who you were talking to...no...no, you had never been afraid to talk to him like that.  Never afraid to meet his attitude head to head.  So what was different now?  “Please,” You added on, quietly.

What the hell happened to you?

Why did he want to be a hero?  

“To be number one.”

“Is that it?”

I don’t know anymore.  He didn’t like this line of questioning.  Bakugou was a smart kid - he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be like the last one the two of you had.  No tea, no gentle touches.  The wounds were infected now and he felt shame burrow deep.  You had something you wanted to say, but something else was keeping it trapped, holding you back from being honest with him.  “What are you getting at?”

You fell quiet, letting his eyes take you in.  With a sigh, you turned and sat back down on the couch.  Your body folded in on itself, your hands grasping your arms, shaking fingertips digging into the fabric of the white dress shirt you were wearing.  “Nothing.”  You said finally.  “Just...thinking.  About things.”

You thought a lot about a lot of things.  Perhaps a little too much for too long.  You were receding back into your thoughts, pulling away from him again.  While he didn’t enjoy the feelings that being around you brought, losing you to your own headspace wasn’t something he would do tonight.  Or...any night.  His feet carried him back to the couch.  With a groan he sat down beside you.  “Well, then say it out loud.”

You let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sneer.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

It took everything in him to not reach out and grab you.  “I’m being serious.”

“I know.”

He just wanted to fucking help you.  “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Like you had helped him.  “Whatever the hell that’s going on.”

A moment passed before you pulled your eyes back to his.  Finally, you were back in the present - back in that room with him.  Suddenly, you were aware that he had stationed himself beside you, so close your arms were a breath away from each other.  And there was a moment of panic in your eyes.  

You smirked, “Oh, are you playing therapist now?”

“Shut up!”  He bellowed.  “And tell me what the hell is going on before I change my mind!”

Your laugh was bitter, but it was something.  You used your hands to push your hair back out of your eyes, “...okay.”  You started...then fell quiet again.  He could hear you swallow the regret, the shame, the fear.  He watched as you struggled to put to words everything spinning around you.  “I don’t think I belong here.  At all.”

There were a million things Bakugou would have thought you could have said.  That...wasn’t one of them.  He had never thought of you not here.  What would that look like?

“I look at everyone here: Kirishima and Uraraka and Tsu and Deku...and I just can’t seem to find a place to put myself.  Among the rest of our class.”  His brows furrowed as you spoke.  He watched as your expression shifted with each word - angry and bitter and lost and upset.  “Like, you all are able to keep your heads held high, keep looking forward and never seem to let things drag you down.  I...I just don’t think I can do that.  So...”  You shrugged, swallowing harshly.  “Maybe I don’t deserve to be here if I can’t handle it...not like everyone else can.”

This wasn’t about the raid - that was just a catalyst.  It obviously struck a chord with you.  

“That’s stupid.”  

Another laugh.  This one tear filled but honest; and so, so bittersweet.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re absolutely right.  It’s pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, you idiot.  It’s stupid because you’re wrong.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.  Then, in a second, your eyes narrowed, your lips thinned and your expression darkened.  He couldn’t help but feel the pride bubble in his chest:  You had realized you weren’t going to avoid this.  Not with him.  Not when he could help you.  He closed his eyes, figured it best to keep you out of his sight until he finished.  

“Look, you moron.  If you want to be angry or sad about whatever the hell happened back there, fine.  Do it.  But what good is wallowing in your own self pity if you’re not going to do anything about it?!”

Your voice shook as you spoke.  “Okay fine - then what should I do, Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open, lips parted in surprise at the question.  There was an edge to your expression, daring him to answer.  Daring him to suggest something.  Blow it up?  Yell at it?  Fight it until it gives up?  But where would you start?  It wasn’t a real person - you couldn’t threaten it to back down.  Eyes scoured the floor for a response, searched desperately to find something - a strand of advice - to give you.  But he had nothing.  

“Yeah,”  You moved, pushing yourself off the couch.  You snatched your bag with such force it almost swung around and hit him in the face.  “That’s what I thought.  You don’t have an answer either.”

Shit.  Shit. He watched you as you skirted past his legs, intent on burying everything again.  If he let this go - let you go - you might actually do it.  You might actually leave UA - leave everyone in Class 1-A, leave your dream, leave...him. 

“It’s fine.”  You added, making your way towards the stairs.  “I’ll be fine.”

But he knew that was a lie.  Everything about this situation was a lie.  You wouldn’t be fine if he let you go upstairs, left you along with those thoughts of inadequacy, and if you kept falling lower and lower...?

“Hey.”  

You paused in front of the elevator...then pressed the button, it’s soft white glow sending panic down Bakugou’s spine.  The only thing he could see of you in the dark was the back of your head, the way your chin dipped just so lightly to your chest.  You weren’t going to respond if he didn’t do something.  He didn’t want this conversation to end - not like this.  What would All Might say?  What would Kirishima say?  What would Deku say?

What would you say?

“You never told me:  Why did you agree to go on that raid?”

There was a moment of pause before you turned and glanced over your shoulder at him.  There was a confused expression on your face, your eyes scanning him to try and figure out just what he was playing at.  “I told you why I wanted to be a hero.”  It was a challenge.  Stay and face this.  “Now tell me why you went on that stupid raid.”

“Don’t get too worked up about this.”  Mr. Aizawa - no, Eraserhead - had said.  “The Big Three are one thing:  They’re strong enough to hold their own out there with the Pros.”  He called you all out by name.  Asui, Uraraka, Kirishima and you.  “You didn’t volunteer for this and you’re not obligated to participate.  It’s your call.”

It had been your call.  Your decision.  The Pros wouldn’t have shoved you into a situation you weren’t ready for.  The four of you had known that it was not necessary for you to go above and beyond what you had already done.  It was going to be dangerous, and you needed to not only be physically capable, but mentally as well.  

You should have waited, weighed the odds, thought about it for a moment longer.  

Your call.  Your choice:  Save a little girl who was in danger or back down.  Be a Hero or refuse to answer the call.

Well...the choice was simple than wasn’t it?

You hadn’t been capable.  You screwed up.  Once again jumping deeper into a situation than you should have.  You weren’t like your friends.  

You weren’t like them at all.

“Mr. Ai- I mean, Eraserhead!  After everything we just heard, I can’t imagine not helping out, sir!”

Someone who could raise their head and keep it held high.  Who could look danger in the eye and refuse to back down.

“Yeah, if you’re going to let us be apart of this, I’d like to pitch in however I can!”

Who saw someone and danger and threw themselves into the line of fire.  Who reached out a hand and kept holding on, long past the last scrap of energy was gone. 

"If I can use my power to help that girl even a little bit, then count me in Eraserhead!”

They were heroes.  You weren’t like them.

You stood up, nodding earnestly.  Your look was stern, your eyes hard as you looked at Eraserhead.  You were equals - at least in this moment.  “Yeah,  heroes save people - so I’ll do my best to make sure that girl is safe!”

You could feel Bakugou’s eyes pick you apart and put you back together.  Looking at him made you sick, made you want to crawl into yourself and rot.  But...with a soft sigh, your eyes casted up, trying to keep the tears from falling again.  You had thought you had done all your crying.  God, his face in the dark was a slight comfort.  His eyes practically glowed in the low light of the common room.  His dark t-shirt hung around his shoulders, his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction.  And he just watched you.  No malice, no rage, just...waiting.  

Waiting for your answer.  

Why did you agree to join the raid?

To save that little girl.  Because that’s what heroes do. 

But...

“After my fight with Deku, you sat with me.  You didn’t have to do that either. So why?”

Arms gripping your hoodie, squeezing you for dear life.  His whole body trembled under your touch.  Tears as he begged for forgiveness that you couldn’t give him.  But you wanted to - because it would mean his pain would be put at ease.  If you couldn’t give him what he needed, what he longed for, you would at least be there for a moment longer than the tears would fall.  You just needed him to know he wasn’t alone.  You needed Katsuki Bakugou to know you were there for him, no matter what.

“And with the League attack?  You weren’t with Kirishima and them.  You went off on your own, to try and save me.  Why?”

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked.  How much he wanted to be a hero.  And if they hurt him, if he refused and the villains hurt him?  If they took that away from him…?  All of his hopes and dreams?

No.  No, you weren’t going to let that happen.  

You had to bite you lip to keep it from shaking.  Bakugou was listing off all your fuck ups as if they mattered.  As if they were helping his case.  As if they were something you should be proud of.  You considered telling him, making him aware that even in those moments, you still failed:  you got knocked out during the raid, during the fight with the villains, and that you hadn’t done much besides give him a hug in the kitchen.  You weren’t doing much.

Deep breath, look away.  His face was too much.  It was too honest, trying to grab at you and hold you still.  He could almost convince you that you did something besides hinder those who had a better chance of being a Hero.

“You do half the shit you do because you’re a good person.  You want to help people.”  Movement caused you to glance his way.  He turned to sit back down on the couch.  “As stupid as it is, I guess it’s pretty admirable.”

‘Pretty admirable’?  He - Katsuki Bakugou - thought it was admirable.  You opened your mouth, but after a long moment of silence found you had nothing to say, so you closed it again.  You hated that even without speaking, you were losing this fight.  “So does everyone else.”  You replied weakly.  It didn’t make you special.  It didn’t make you any different.

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Than wouldn’t that mean you belong here with all the other losers looking to be a Hero to protect people?”

Ding!

Behind you, the elevator opened.  

A soft gasp escaped your chest.  So...that’s what he was doing.  Leave it up to him to talk you around into a circle before shoving your argument back into your face...no, he hadn’t been nearly as harsh as you had expected.  He was speaking so softly to you, being as gentle as he knew how - which granted, wasn’t much, but appreciated none the less.  One shouldn’t look a gift explosion in the mouth.  

You looked at the elevator over your shoulder, stared at it’s open doors.  

You let them shut.

For the first time since that raid, you smiled.  Really, honestly smiled.  You set your bag down against the wall.  The walk back to the couch was the lightest you had felt in a long while.  You sat down next to him, resting your hands on your knees and one by one, you tapped your fingers against your skin.  With a deep breath, you felt your shoulders relaxed.  You weren’t surprised he was able to help.  “I guess...technically...using that logic...you’re not wrong.”

Bakugou scoffed, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.  “Of course I’m not wrong.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.  “How could I have ever thought to argue with you? Truly a futile effort to begin with.”

His smirk was quick, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth before he grunted and looked away.  The prickly exterior he generally used to conceal himself was growing back into place and you couldn’t help but laugh.  You had been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you almost forgot how much he made your heart skip.  As you looked over his profile, you realized that you were entirely thankful for Bakugou and not just in that moment.  You had been so stuck in your pit, sinking lower and lower that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it.

But like everything, he broke the glass ceiling and shot through.  Only this time, he snatched you up and pulled your head to the surface.  Even if for a moment, you could breathe because he was holding your head above the water.  

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, nudging him warmly.  He ruined expectations again by waiting a moment before doing it back to you.  

He was so warm, his skin amazingly soft.  It lit your chest aflame and your cheeks grew pink - but you didn’t move.  The two of you leaned against each other but said nothing about it.  How did you find yourself here?  You had been close to him before but this was different in a way that didn’t seem to make any sort of sense.  And...you kind of like that it didn’t.  Because it didn’t have to.  You realized that sometimes, when it was just the two of you, as few as those “sometimes” may have been, you simply wanted it to just...be.  

You shouldn’t want to be so close to him, not now.  Would it be in poor taste?  Would he think less of you if he knew?  Did he know?  Did he feel the same way?  You were certain that if he looked over at you, looked into your eyes he would...at least see something.  You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but it was enough to cause your knees to knock and your chest to ache.  And you wondered if he would see how much your fingers longed to reach out and touch his body, draw him close and...  

But that didn’t matter.  Not now. 

You looked down at your hands.  If you...wanted to try...wanted to see if...this was something you could have, you would have to take the first leap.  Bakugou wasn’t going to do it.  He wasn’t going to be the one who dove head first.  But was now the perfect time?  Would there ever be a perfect time?  After having him strip your defenses, tear you down, build you back up - should you wait?

You spared another look, hoping that you might find confidence in his being.  

Your eyes met.  He was looking at you too.

No.  No, you weren’t waiting.  Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t someone you waited for.  If you were going to do this, see if he felt the same way you felt - all the crazy heart skips and lingering glances when the other wasn’t looking - you had to do this now.  

Gathering all your courage, you moved your hand and offered it to him.  His eyes tore away from your face then down at your open palm.  The universe held it’s breath, watched eagerly...as he slid his fingers between yours.  His calloused digits scratched at your skin lightly, his palms were a little clammy and...

Bakugou held you firm, grasping you tightly.  Desperate and scared and you remembered everything that lead you to this moment.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

Wild hair haloed in the setting sun peeking above the tops of overgrown trees.  Everyone around you disappears when his arms wrap around you.  He holds your hands, guiding the knife as he helps you chop.

“Out of all those losers, I was glad you were there.”

It felt like something was dragging you to him, tugging your body towards his.  He wasn’t stopping you, he wasn’t yelling or screaming or pushing you away.  He just watched, eyes narrowed and darkened under his hair.  Was he waiting to see what you would do?  Was he too scared to move on his own?  You reached out, gliding your fingers over his sandy blonde locks and brushing them out of the way so you could see his face.  Fingertips drifted down and over his cheek, trying to offer the same warmth he filled you with.  

Defiantly, a daring look in his eye, he pressed his cheek into your hand.  If you’re going to do this, then mean it.  Everything about him made you want to scream, drove you mad.  He always fought - and you saw now, that this whole time...he was fighting for you.  Fighting to let you know.  Had you been so entirely blind all this time?  

You wanted to say something, to let him know that you saw.  But words were wrong, thin, pointless and empty.  Nothing you could say would ever be enough to let him know how you felt.  So you would give all of you and hope that it was enough for him.

Without waiting another moment, you pressed your lips to his.  It was a deep and heavy action, one that he met with passion only he could muster.  You closed your eyes and lost yourself into his taste, the heat of his lips, his very presence.  It was a rush, one that sent you spinning - derailed all train of thought.  All that mattered was him.  All that lived in this universe was you and him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up and over him and you were happy to follow.  You didn’t dare break away, to lose the contact that you obviously both had been longing for.  Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and tangling.  Never once did he pull away - quite the opposite.  He met you, every press of your lips, every motion of want and desire, laid bare in front of both of you.  And as you felt his finger graze over the skin on your back, dipping under your dress shirt to set the nerves there on fire, you realized both of you were utter fools.

It’s an awful thing: knowing you’re not enough.  Wanting something so badly, but no matter how much you long for it, it still slips through your grasp.  Of knowing that nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome.

He should have stayed in his dorm.  He should have never looked at his phone.  He should have never told you about Bakugou.  

He should have never let you get so close.  

It was by chance he glanced at the window looking into the common room, hand poised in front of the door.  At first, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at - two shadowed masses, one on top of the other.  But then, he saw your face.  His heart wrenched when you pulled away from Bakugou.  A scream locked in his throat the way you smiled at him, soft and loving.  He hated the look in your eyes as you ran your thumb over his lips, as he slid his fingers into your hair to pull you back for more. 

Something Shinsou couldn’t have.  Someone he wasn’t enough for.

He didn’t linger on the steps for too long.  He feared you would see him and then - then you would have to talk.  He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that, not with Bakugou behind you.  

The walk back to the dorm was a long one and he was surprised he made it into his room without incident.  It was late enough though, most of his classmates were asleep and the rest had retired to their rooms.  No one knew he was gone.  His mind was utterly blank until the locked clicked shut.

He didn’t realize he had punched the wall until his hand pulled back, sliced open.  Blood pooled and ran down his arm.  But it wasn’t enough.  It didn’t stop him from replaying that scene in his head over and over again.  The way you two were looking at each other, the soft touches, gentle smiles...

He slumped to the floor and let out one pitiful sob.  

What was he supposed to do now?

Author’s Note:  I honestly watched Cats the 2019 musical and then wrote Shinsou’s part because I’ve been having a pretty good week honestly so I wasn’t in the headspace for honest disappointment.  

I just needed something to remind me that happiness is fleeting and something terrible and awful will usually come and destroy what you know and love most in this world.  Drag your joy through the mud until the only thing left is a shell of what once was.

...who let’s Hooper direct shit?

Anyway.  I do think I’m going to lead into a part 4 for this one.  I don’t know.  I’ll let you guys decide if you want something more lol since I’m interested in continuing it.  Especially given the newer chapters. 

Also eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, kissing scene.  First real one on this blog anyway and not a kiss mentioned in passing.  And look, it only took me a year or so to do it. :)  I’m a fantastic mod of this blog who gives people what they want and doesn’t focus on stupid shit in the slightest why are you guys here you should have left me on the street corner where I was standing

Tag List!  If you want to be added, let me know!

@snaspants​ | @purplebellybell | @sxlenced-xf-lxvers​ | 

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki #katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo #jealous bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #canon x reader #shinsou x reader #Shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinshou x reader #bnha shinsou #this #was #a long time coming #and I honestly feel like it's still not perfect #but. #yeah #yeeeeeeeah #Happier || Series

[xpeachesncream]

could i ask a request? an aiko drabbles of she seeing reader and taehyung together. please? thank you!

perfectly wrong | drabble [9]: when you and taehyung run into aiko at the movies and she’s still bitter.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, miss sassy pants y/n and we love to see it cause tae can handle his baby

"Tae!" You laughed loudly as he carried you on his back, galloping like a mad man as you both made your way from the garage to the movie theater.

"I told you it was faster that way." You drop down from his back as you both come into full view of the theater box office.

"Look at you, all tired and shit now."

"I don't know why you're complaining when you didn't have to do any work, missy." You laugh as you playfully shove him to the side. Tonight, you and Taehyung decided last minute that you both wanted to head out and watch a late night movie at the new fancy theater nearby. This new and fancy theater was the kind of movie theater that served you food and drinks right at your seat, with the added bonus of comfy, reclining chairs.

The sweet, sweet life.

"What do you wanna watch?" Taehyung's puppy eyes are glued to the board with all the movies and times listed. There was a good mix of new and older movies showing.

"Moana." His lips are sealed into a fine, thin line.

"What do you actually wanna watch?"

"Did I not just name a movie?"

"Rise of Skywalker? Nice!" He says, raising his hand for you to high-five. You return the high-five simply because he was your boyfriend, but you continued to shake your head.

"Let's watch Knives Out." He nods in agreement.

"Actually, I'm down for that one. I'm a fan of Chris Evans." You laugh.

"Yeah, same." He looks at you with a blank expression.

"Mm, actually nevermind." You playfully hit him as he realizes that you'd be gushing over Chris Evans during the entire movie.

"Oh quit, I'm obviously not the only one who'll be gushing over him."

"Look young lady, if I hear one word about how big his muscles are, you're leaving and I'm staying." You laugh.

"Go buy the tickets, Taehyung." You stand aside, waiting for Taehyung to buy the movie tickets. The theater wasn't too crowded, either because it was still too new or because it was a little later in the evening than most people would like - either way, you were okay with it. You didn't have to talk to people from campus or run into anyone you or Taehyung knew.

Except, you realize you've spoken too soon when you look around and realize who's standing a couple of feet away from you.

Aiko.

She's standing around with two other friends, but it looks like she had spotted you before you spotted her. She's keeping her gaze on you as she talks to her friend, her friend trying to slyly look back at you but failing miserably.

Girl, I really wish you would try me.

You for sure haven't forgotten the way she came at you during Jin's party, like you were the sole reason as to why her world came crumbling down on her.

"Uh?" Taehyung furrows his brows as he holds out the tickets. "Babe, you alright? Why do you look so annoyed?"

"Ohhhh, it's nothing." You smile through the annoyance she had brought onto you.

"Funny that you think I don't know you well enough." He turns to follow your gaze, watching Aiko start to strut her way over. He sighs when he returns his attention to you and squeezes your hand to try and relax you. "Come, let's just go inside."

"Hey guys, nice seeing you two here." Aiko says, batting her eyelashes at you and Taehyung innocently.

"Uh, hey." He turns to you. "Y/N? Let's go."

"Aiko." You flatly greet her.

"Happy to see it's actually working out between you two."

"Thanks." You copy her tone and scrunch your nose, hoping she'd catch on to the attitude making its way through. Honestly, Aiko was still bitter about how things went down. She's bitter because for awhile, Taehyung made it seem like she was the one who could change him. He made it seem like she was the one he was dropping all his stupid games for. She thought this was going to her. That's why she was so quick to leave Jin because Taehyung was so fucking good at woo'ing her and making her fall head over heels for him. Just down to the way he touched her and fucked her. The familiar, over-used sweet nothings he'd tell her.

Aiko's bitter. She's triggered. She really hates the fact that she had to run into you both, together.

Yeah, and you hate thinking about it. You hate thinking about the time your man had spent with her and what that was possibly like.

It made your skin crawl.

"Y/N, the movie." Taehyung says, no longer saying another word to Aiko. They were treating each other like long time exes, almost like how he was with Hana. Maybe this was just Taehyung's way of pushing people out when he didn't know how to deal.

"Okay." You respond as you give Aiko one last look before you and Taehyung are walking off to head inside.

"You know you don't need to be like that right?"

"Like what?"

"Little miss sassy pants."

"She didn't have to say anything in the first place. No one was looking for her." You looked at him, confused. Truly. Why did she have to look at you like that? Why did she have to talk to you to her friends like that? Girl, you don't know me. This was not your problem to deal with.

"Baby." Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. He wasn't even surprised, he knew you always had this fire in you and there was really no way to put it out. "Not even worth the energy." He grabs your hand and leads the way to the theater.

As you both sit down and take a look at the menu to order some things, Taehyung leaves you alone for a second to use the bathroom. You were texting your friends when you had seen Taehyung's phone light up next to you. Typically, you don't really care what's going on in Taehyung's phone. You weren't that girl. However, your eyes drifted towards the screen for a quick second only to see a Snapchat notification from Aiko and a text.

You didn't even know he still had her name in the books like that.

"Baby, the bathrooms here are—" He proceeds to sign chef's kiss, but then realizes you were just staring at him. "Huh? What is it?" He looks down at his phone and checks the screen.

"I didn't even know you had her number still."

"I wasn't gonna go out of my way to delete it." He catches himself. "Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, after everything happened, it wasn't necessarily first on my list." You understood what he was saying but you just shrugged it off anyway.

"This must be important, being that she was just mad as fuck at you." He sighs and quickly opens the app to check the snap with you. He presses the notification, only to show her in a very seductive selfie photo. Cleavage in full view, biting onto a finger and hair all arranged to look semi-messy?

"Beats me." He lets go of the box to remove the snap. "I just feel like things could have worked out better if we had a proper conversation." He reads her text out loud.

"She really wants you." He swipes left to delete the text from his inbox before smirking at you and putting you in a gentle headlock.

"Mm, but I want this lady right here." You giggle as he showers your face with tons of kisses. He had let you free once he realized the flatbread you ordered was coming your way. He clapped happily and began to dig in.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Whatever you want, love."

"Were you really interested in her?" He shrugged.

"For a minute, I really didn't think I would be able to work things out with you. I really, really wanted to be with you before Aiko even came in the picture, but I was scared and the whole thing with Jungkook at the time was making it hard for me." You nodded.

"I'm just curious."

"So, I guess that's why she's mad. I kind of did give her that false hope." He chuckles. "But also, I mean, it's me."

"Taehyung, shut the hell up. You caused so many issues." You chuckled as you bit into your flatbread piece.

"Yesssss and I apologized, right?" He elongates his yes. You simply nod and take a sip of your cocktail. "Okay, then all is well. We're past this and she isn't in the picture. You are." He was right, there was really no use of being bitter or getting sassy about it. No matter what Aiko tried to do or say, he wasn't here with her. It was you.

Aiko was just gonna have to deal.

A couple of days later, you were working a shift at Jin's café with Jungkook. It hadn't been too busy, but there was a moment where things picked up and all three of you were busting your ass to get orders out. As time went out and things settled, Jin was able to fix whatever he needed to in the kitchen, while you and Jungkook held the fort down at the front.

"Who uses snapchat anymore?" Jin comes out of the kitchen, fiddling on his phone.

"Why?" You and Jungkook were rearranging the pastries.

"Aiko sent me a snapchat."

"Funny, she sent Taehyung one a couple of days ago when we ran into her at the movies."

"You ran into her?" Jungkook asks, taking the tongs out of your hands. "How'd that go?"

"Kind of awkward? She came up to us out of nowhere just to be like waaaaow so happy it's working out between you two." You mocked her tone again.

"At least she said she's happy about it." Jin joked in typical Jin fashion.

"What's the snap she sent you?" Jin presses down on the box to show the same exact photo she had sent Taehyung.

"Yah! Look!" Jin laughed, Jungkook going around to look over his shoulder.

"She has nice boobies."

"Oy! Inappropriate!" You bop Jungkook on the head before quickly leaning over and taking a look again. "She sent the same one to Tae."

"Should I send her the eyes?"

"No, no. Don't. Send her a thumbs up since that's all you ever send people." Jin and Jungkook start cracking up, making you walk away from their chaos.

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong #perfectly wrong drabbles #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff

[serpentinesarang]

long time no see

pairing: woozi (lee jihoon) x fem reader

genre: idol!AU, smut, fluff, second-person POV

word count: 1560

content warnings: cyber sex, mutual masturbation, swearing

summary: society is finally back to somewhat normalcy after covid, and svt finally gets the opportunity to embark on a world tour. woozi has been away from you for about two months now, and he misses you extra, so he facetimes you after a concert while in a fat, juicy  m o o d™️

requested by: @amymoonl​

a/n: #5 on my prompt list ♡

korean key:

⦿ annyeonghaseyo (안녕하세요) = most common and formal hello; pronounced “on-yawng-ha-seh-yo”

⦿ nado (나도) = me too; pronounced “nah-doh”

⦿ jagiya (자기야) = baby; pronounced “jog-ee-yah”

⦿ anyo (아뇨) = colloquial no; pronounced “on-yo”

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Saturday afternoon. You’ve checked off all of the things on your to-do list so far: morning skincare, grocery store, laundry (darks and reds), workout, lunch with a close coworker, post office errand, and even a phone call with one of your parents all the way on the west coast of the US, the country your partner Jihoon is currently touring with Seventeen. 

It’s been a long two-ish years since COVID first hit, and SVT being able to finally set out on tour was the biggest blessing, not only for the boys but carats as well. 

You’re parked on the couch, newly available after a brief check-in with your family. Your phone is literally still in your hand when it abruptly launches an app: “Jihoon ❤️ wants to FaceTime with you...”

Your eyes bug almost out of their sockets, and your jaw nearly cracks off your skull at the sight. Baby boy hasn’t videocalled you in any way in almost a month now because their tour dates were so heavily stacked, and his texts had been alluding to all-around fatigue for everybody after not touring for so long.

But shit! He’s calling you!!!!

You waste no time jamming your thumb against the green circle, the screen loading a dimly-lit image of a topless, black-haired Jihoon propped up with pillows.

“Baby!” you yelp with excitement, extending your arm to capture yourself at a more flattering angle.

“Y/N!” Jihoon yelps back, matching your level of giddiness. He beams a toothy, ear to ear grin and stares at his screen intently, taking in your beauty.

“I miss youuu,” you say with an adorable pout as he turns on a bedside lamp.

“Nado, jagiya,” Jihoon frowns in response, pursing his pink-stained lips. “I still have energy tonight though, so here I am.”

It dawns on you that there’s a major time difference between you two. You glance at your watch, which reads just after 3 PM Korea-time, so that means it’s past 1 AM in Chicago, where SVT had just finished performing a concert.

“Oh, wow... Shouldn’t you be sleeping, babe?” you ask.

Jihoon glances around for a moment, his expression looking a little hesistant. “Honestly... I’m really horny right now.”

Well split me open and butter me up... you think. 

You take in a big breath, scrambling to process your man’s words. “Ah, I see...” You pause for a second to watch him shift more upright against his pillows. “I can be persuaded.”

Jihoon dramatically brings his phone up to his face with raised eyebrows. “I will persuade you, Y/N.”

At that, you feel a lone throb within your clit. You’d be a fool not to indulge him, especially since you haven’t flicked the bean in a solid week because of work.

You sigh, preparing yourself. “I’m waiting,” you reply softly.

Wordlessly, Jihoon aims his camera away from his glowing face and downward to encompass his entire lower half. You can just barely see bedsheets crumpled up against his thighs, but it’s his long, rock-hard boner lying against his stomach that catches your hungry eyes.

“Oh, Jihoon...” you murmur, not a single thought in your mind. You feel a small glob of arousal trickle out of you, so you shift around nervously. “Where are the boys?”

“Some of them are drinking somewhere, and others went to sleep in different rooms. I told them the concert gave me a headache,” he responds after bringing the camera back to his face.

Proud of his craftiness, you nod with a tiny smirk forming. “Smart man.”

“Now, about my problem...” he raises a brow and peers into the camera expectantly.

“Say no more, babe.” 

You reach forward to prop your phone against an empty mug on the coffee table before you, making sure all of you shows on screen. Scooting to the edge of the couch, you tug off your t-shirt and haphazardly tie your hair in a knot. You’re left in a cotton sports bra and yoga pants.

“More,” Jihoon whispers roughly, pulling back his phone to show himself leisurely stroking his smooth, pink shaft. You want to see his balls too, but you know you have to give more in order to get more.

You remove your pants, revealing a rather sexy, red G-string. You hear Jihoon whimper in the background while he grips his dick and slowly pumps it horizontally, the tugging motions finally giving you your peek at his beautiful full package.

“You’re so sexy, Jihoon,” you say in a velvety voice before turning around and kneeing the couch to give him a sinful view of your equally sinful ass, the little red string peeking out at the small of your back.

“Anyo, jagi,” he replies, his voice scarily firm. “Not like you.”

Jihoon flips his camera from selfie mode to alleviate his tired arm, and your view is now a delightful close-up of his languid, horizontal pumping. Now you can make out the precum beginning to ooze at his swollen tip.

Still facing away from your own camera, you tug off your sports bra and chuck it carelessly behind the couch. Once you turn around and sit at the couch’s edge again, Jihoon emits a loud mmm. While you fondle your supple breasts for him, he angles his erection vertically, causing your clit to develop its own heartbeat.

“More, jagi, please,” he begs in a quiet voice, gripping his shaft tighter as he continues pumping, occasionally twisting his wrist for extra sensation.

“Okay, baby,” you nod.

You lift your ass quickly to discard the G-string and then lay your shoulders back against the couch with your gorgeous pussy closer to the camera. You spread your knees as far as possible before digging your heels into the couch cushions beside you. This is a view he would absolutely drop anything for.

Jihoon sighs aloud, stopping at the base to demonstrate the now prominent veins of his shaft. “Look what you do to me,” he murmurs lowly before he resumes pumping, this time at a faster pace.

“Ji, look at how wet I am,” you counter, rubbing the pad of your middle finger against your soaked entrance and carefully pulling it away to show your arousal sticking to your finger in a tantalizing, glistening line.

“Fuck,” you hear him whisper.

You press two fingertips to your enflamed clit and trace light circles, cupping a breast with your free hand and rolling your neck backward.

“I want you so bad, Y/N,” he moans, breathing a little bit louder. You bring your eyes back to the screen to see his precum running all the way down his angry shaft and even touching his thumb. 

You smirk at the sight of how far gone your man is. Picking up the pace on your clit, you take your free hand and slid two fingers inside, thrusting straight in and out at a more casual pace.

Jihoon utters an impatient mmm. “Baby, say something... I miss your voice.”

“I miss your voice calling me a bad girl when I used to masturbate before you came home,” you reply, fucking yourself faster and matching the speed of your clit rubbing.

“Uggghhh...” he groans, slowing his pumping but squeezing the tip hard each time. His precum was still flowing out of him like tears.

“I miss your dick hitting my cervix every fucking time,” you murmured, your voice strained. Feeling yourself free-falling into your pleasure, you curl your fingers inside to press your G-spot, and you involuntarily roll your eyes back.

“UHh,” Jihoon whines at the sight of your blissful expression, and you can tell from this sound that he’s close. You know his noises well enough by now.

“Go faster for me, Ji,” you plead, opening your eyes again and focusing on his deliciously red erection in his small hand.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, fulfilling your request. At this point, his insane amount of precum had started running down to his wrist, and this mouthwatering image shoved you over the edge.

Pressing deeper into your hard clit and fucking yourself so fast that your wrist was aching, you feel yourself uncontrollably clenching on your drenched fingers. 

“Yes, jagi—oh my God,” Jihoon groans, finally spurting thick ropes of cum into the air and against his hand. “Ohhhh shiiiit.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Jihoon’s trembling orgasm snaps you into your own. You pull your fingers out for him to see your pulsating hole as you shriek in a broken sound of unbridled euphoria, still furiously massaging your clit through the orgasm.

“So hot, Y/N. I wish I could lick you dry,” he declares while tenderly stimulating his frenulum with an index finger.

At last, it’s done. You retract your hand and remain spread open, allowing Jihoon to watch the last vibrations of your shiny hole as well as the considerable amount of fluid draining out of you and between your cheeks.

He switches to lightly groping his balls, angling his camera upward for you to better see. “I can’t wait to cum in you when I get home.”

You sigh, wiped out from the experience. “Ji, I just wanna cuddle you more than anything right now.”

Jihoon flips his camera back to selfie mode, revealing a light sheen of sweat across his forehead and temples. ��That too, jagi. I’ll hold you as long as you need when we come back.”

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